Strength
by tini243
Summary: In the crystal caves, an unlikely bond had been formed between Zuko and Katara. A bond that gives them unprecedented abilities, but forces a closeness that they are unwilling to accept. At least at first... Zutara, post season 2
1. Discoveries

**Summary:** He's fire, she's water. Together, they create an energy they can't seem to live without.

**Warning:** Later chapters will be rated M. Season 3 spoilers as far as they've been aired in the US.

* * *

**_Chapter 1: Discovery_**

A full moon cast flecks of cold white light on the water, dancing before her eyes as she stared into the black water.

Full moon, she mused. She should be at her strongest now. Nigh invincible.

But instead, four weeks after almost loosing Aang, she felt drained, brittle – and cold.

It was not healing Aang that drained her strength, she knew that although she had fought the thought from the second it occurred to her. What drained her strength was his absence. Zuko's absence.

She'd never been stronger than when she was fighting him.

"_I thought you've changed."_

_Water clashing against bright hot flames, steam hissing upward.__ Strength pumping through her blood._

"_I have changed."_

It's been always like this, if she was honest. The most frightful of her power reserved for the battle with him, not weakening when his flames clashed against the element she threw at him.

They never spared each other a quarter, and they'd been enemies for as long as she knew him.

"_Whenever I would imagine the face of the enemy, it was your face."_

_A pained frown and an instinctual touch to his scar. "My face. I see."_

She was so entranced in her memories, she hadn't noticed Aang sidling up to her.

"Where do you want to go?"

Her eyes went wide, confused. "I will stay with you, of course."

He said nothing for a long while, just stood there, contemplating the moonlight on the dark waves.

"Something happened in that cave, right?" he asked darkly. "Something between you and… him."

"Nothing happened," she said, a bit too hastily. "Nothing important."

Aang sighed next to her, troubled.

"Maybe if something had happened, he wouldn't have turned against us."

Her cold fingertips tingled with warmth as she remembered touching his face - his scar.

_"I'm free to determine my own destiny, even if I'll never be free of my mark." _

_The weight of the vial with water from the Spirit oasis suddenly heavy against her body. _

_"Maybe you could be free of it."_

She still remembered what she had felt when Aang had came rushing in, interrupting them when she was about to heal Zuko. She still remembered the acid taste of guilt over feeling disappointed.

And just as Aang had just said, she too believed that maybe if she had healed Zuko, taken away what troubled him so greatly, he would have acted upon the good that - according to his uncle - was inside of him.

"I was told I had to let you go," Aang interrupted her thoughts. "So, if you want to go to him, I'm not keeping you."

His dismissive, hurt tone made her angrier than she had thought it would. How could he?

"What do you think I'll do? Traipse into the palace of the Firelord, asking Ozai if he would kindly let me speak to his jerk of a son because – hey! maybe I can heal his scar and then he'll turn into a good guy and join us in our quest to kick Ozai's behind?"

Aang's face was blank when he turned to her but then a ghost of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Maybe something a bit less dramatic."

………

Night lay black and stifling over the city. Warm, too warm for the season.

He stood at the window of his bedchamber, clad only in loose pants, sweat trickling down the skin of his back.

Mai slept soundly in the bed behind him, probably tired from hours of enthusiastic lovemaking. Still, he never felt quite satisfied. His sleep was never as deep as hers, never as untroubled.

Four weeks, he mused. Four weeks of everything he thought he'd ever wanted.

Back to being the Prince, the heir to the throne of the Firenation. Back to people bowing to him and catering to his every whim. Back to fine clothes and delicious food. He even had a beautiful woman in his bed who adored him and never let any desire of him go unfulfilled.

It should feel perfect but not once in his life had he felt so empty.

Restless, dried up inside. Weighed down with immeasurable guilt.

He wished he could be surer he'd made the right decision. It didn't feel right.

"_I thought you've changed."_

_Her eyes, ice-blue and full of emotion. Shock. Disappointment. Hatred._

_Steam hissing as his fire cut through her hold on his sister. Power surging through him, wild and untamed like a spring flood._

_He'd never felt more powerful than while fighting with her. He was disappointed it ended so fast. He didn't know if he could have won if he had been alone with her. But maybe that wouldn't have mattered. With her, the fight was the triumph. _

Bedclothes rustled behind him.

"Come back to bed."

He turned and looked at the woman in his bed, gloriously naked and unashamed of it.

Did she know why he closed his eyes when he kissed her? Why he bit his lips and kept quiet when he came, holding back the one name that was always on his mind?

He turned back to the window.

"Just a few more minutes."

………

He did not know why he was counting the days. Five weeks and three days.

"I decided to go looking for mother."

Azula quirked one perfect eyebrow at him.

"Whatever for?"

"She's our mother."

"And you want her present at your wedding, I presume? How romantic."

Mai lowered her head and squirmed in the seat across from him. He had not yet formally asked her to marry him.

A malicious little smile quirked his sister's lips. "You're a grown man," she said smoothly. "Get over it. She's probably not even alive."

"How dare you—"

"Your Highness." One of the guards interrupted his outburst, bowing deeply.

"What is it?"

"The palace guard captured a woman outside the walls this morning. She claimed she needed to speak to you."

"I don't speak to every peasant who wishes it," he barked.

"I know, my lord. But she was quite insistent and gave us something to prove that you'd want to talk to her."

With his head lowered, the guard came toward him and dropped something into his palm.

The blue crystal necklace caught the light of the fires around him, still sparkling fresh and lively in the palm of his hand. The wavy lines symbolizing the Water Tribe shimmered milkily in the glass. He'd carried this necklace at his wrist for days out of a sentimentality he still did not understand.

_Katara._

It felt like his soul sighed the name in relief.

He fought to keep his expression neutral as he gingerly closed his fingers around the necklace before his nosy sister could see it.

"Bring her in."

………

In the end, it had been easier than she'd thought. She only needed to let herself being taken prisoner and then convince the guards that their Prince would want to see her.

That was the part about which she was most unsure. At worst, he'd keep her necklace and would let them throw her into prison, never to see daylight again.

But now she was here, roughly shoved alongside a vast corridor, adorned with gold and dark reds wherever one looked. And although she was so deep inside the enemy's den, she felt excitement coursing through her in invigorating pulses, her stomach tight with anticipation.

They stepped through a large door and she saw him at once. Standing between his sister and Mai, clad in full regalia, the gold symbol of the Fire-Nation adorning his hair.

How different he looked from the sad boy in that crystal cave, lost and motherless and ashamed of the scar that so hideously marred one side of his handsome face.

_Zuko._

"Bow!" the guards barked next to her, shoving her to her knees.

She had not come to fight, so she dropped to her knees and pressed her forehead to the floor.

"The waterbender," Azula's voice sounded over her, dripping venom. "I hope you've searched her for water. She wants to kill the Prince."

"She does not." His voice sounded hoarse and a bit choked. "Release her and go, you've done well."

Katara sensed the guards bowing and stepping backwards out of the room. She still knelt on the floor, forehead on the ground.

"Azula, Mai, leave us alone."

"No," Azula said evenly. "I'm responsible for your safety."

Katara almost smiled to herself as she envisioned him glaring at his sister. She also bit back the comment that Azula had not demonstrated much concern for her brother's well-being before.

"Stand up!"

She lifted herself from the floor and drew upright, immediately fixing her eyes on his.

His bright, golden gaze slammed into her, so intense she had to gasp.

"Katara."

A hoarse gentleness was in his voice as he said her name, cradling every syllable like something precious.

"Zuko," she replied rather breathlessly.

"It's _Prince_ Zuko," Azula sniped from somewhere to the side.

"Shut up!" he snarled.

Katara could not be bothered to look at Azula's expression, priceless as it might be. She had her gaze fixed on the glow of amber, deep and warm. Fatigue and cold terror fell off her as she looked, replaced by a new sense of buoyancy.

"Can I offer you something, Katara?" he asked after a while. The slow drawl sent a shiver down her spine. He'd never so affected her as he did just now. He was so in control, calm and deadly, unshakable sure of himself.

"Some water would be nice," she answered evenly.

The two other women in the room snorted.

"Mai, you've heard our guest," Zuko said slowly, never taking his eyes off her. Whatever control he had over her, she felt that she also held some measure of control over him.

"You can't be serious!" Mai said, horrified.

"Do I have to repeat myself?"

Now Katara allowed herself a smile. He was magnificent. A traitor, a liar and a jerk, but commanding respect and obedience none the less.

Still unflinchingly staring into his eyes, Katara couldn't see who brought water, but she felt it as soon as it was in the room. Not breaking eye contact, she lifted a hand and brought only a handful of water to her, not enough to fight, but then again, she hadn't come here to fight.

She brought her hand close to her stomach, palm up, the water rotating as a blue ball a few inches above her hand.

Blood thundered in her ears and her focus narrowed even more. She was aware of nothing but his eyes and his body, only two feet from hers.

"Zuko," she whispered, her body trembling.

He brought his hand to his stomach in a gesture just like hers.

A pleasurable jolt went through her as a flame sprung to life, broad as his palm and not very high. He did not want to fight either.

In a slow, calculated motion, she brought her hand up, palm toward him, the blue orb of water quivering in front of it.

"Katara," he growled.

Steam hissed between their hands as fire met water, but only for a short moment. Then they found the perfect balance. The fire did not rise in temperature, while she cooled the water down just so it wouldn't boil.

She felt as if she was expanding with the strength rushing into her body through the palm of her hand. Her blood pounded, sending heated blood coursing into every fibre of her being, flooding her with energy, with warmth, with life.

"Zuko," she sighed.

………

He could barely believe she had come to him. Stepped back into his life at a moment when he had honestly asked himself if it was still worth living.

Stepped into the room, a vision of unparalleled beauty. She wore Fire-Nation clothes of a deep red: a long, flowing skirt and a top clinging tightly to her breasts. The bare stomach and shoulders exposed a wide expanse of silky, caramel coloured skin. Her hair fell in rich, chestnut waves down to her hips, hugging her curves.

His body had come alive instantly, yearning and aching as if he had not had a woman for ages.

In the end, though, it were her eyes that held all his attention. With every second he stared into them, his parched soul sobbed with joy.

But nothing could have prepared him for what had happened after he'd given her the water. He knew she hadn't come to attack him. She was many things, and none of them was stupid.

As soon as their elements made contact, he felt the return of his power.

His shrivelled insides came to life as the cool liquid of her power washed through him, reviving his heart, swelling his slackened muscles, clearing his muddled thoughts.

She was vital to him, he realized. He could take from her what he needed and if he had known it before, he'd never failed in the first place.

Looking at her, though, it didn't seem as if he was depleting her resources, as if him taking her power was weakening her. If anything, the ball of water pressing against his flame grew colder, more insistent. Her pupils had widened to the point where the sky-blue of her irises was only a small band around a deep pool of darkness.

"Katara," he said, hoping to express his awe and his gratefulness.

No other thought was left in his brain but the chanting of her name, over and over. A prayer and a benediction to his enemy, his saviour.

Time lost meaning, as did their surroundings. They were on a journey together, he realized. Upwards, toward an unknown summit and once there, they might understand the pull between them, the magic that happened between the palms of their hands, frightening and exhilarating at the same time.

Then a sharp pain ripped through his skull. At the same time, he heard a piercing scream and the blue irises, centre of his awareness, left his field of vision.

The blow to his head was so severe, he swayed on his feet, taking long moments to focus on his surroundings.

Katara was sprawled on the floor, a nasty scorch mark on her right temple. For a moment, he agonized whether he had hurt her, when his sister's voice came up next to him.

"She bewitched you."

His new-found energy rose in him as a white-hot wave of rage. Spinning round to Azula, he only lifted his hand when a burst of white fire slammed into Azula's stomach, hurling her across the room.

No firebender had ever produced white fire. Not even Uncle Ihro.

But that wasn't at the forefront of his thoughts as he sank to his knees in front of Katara's lifeless body. A faint pulse throbbed against his fingers as he put it on her neck and he almost shattered with relief.

He scooped her up in his arms and strode from the chamber, yelling for help at the top of his lungs.

………

"When will she regain consciousness?"

He could not keep the tone of despairing impatience out of his voice and he knew the old healer, sitting hunched over Katara's body, could barely hold back a sigh at the repeated question.

"I don't know. To be perfectly honest, it's a miracle she's still alive."

Zuko resumed his pacing.

He had brought Katara into his own bedchamber, only later remembering that the palace had hundreds of guest rooms. A few hours ago, Mai had come in to tell him that Azula had recovered from his attack, her armour had taken the worst of the blast that otherwise would've been fatal. He did not care. He had not intended to kill Azula, but at that moment, it had felt like self-defence.

He had then coolly dismissed her, making no secret of the fact that Katara would stay where she was. Where she belonged, in his opinion.

"She's a strong woman, that little waterbender," the old man rasped from the side. "Beautiful, too."

Zuko balled his fists, resisting the urge to shoot flames at the man's head.

"You should heal her, not ogle her."

The healer inclined his head and proceeded to wrap the wound at Katara's temple.

"I'm afraid there is little else I can do," he said a while later. "Her head is burning with fever, but I can't cool her down, because her whole body is ice-cold. She needs something to warm her, while I put a wet cloth on her forehead."

While Zuko puzzled over what exactly the man meant, he came shuffling back to a bed with a basin with cold water and a cloth.

"I take it from here," Zuko said gruffly.

The man looked to him, smiled and bowed and then finally left the room in a completely unhurried fashion.

Finally alone, Zuko divested himself of his outer tunic, body armour and the light tunic underneath.

He sat down at Katara's side, dipped the cloth into the cold water, wrung the water from it and laid it gently on her forehead.

Then he walked to the other side of the wide bed, climbed under the covers and tentatively cradled her body to him. Her skin was so clammy to his touch, he almost shuddered.

Marginally increasing his own body temperature, he cradled her even closer.

She had to live through this, he determined. He needed to learn the secret of the bond between them, needed to know what exactly all that meant. And as unbelievable as that was, most of all he needed her.

………

Her head pounded as she woke up and for long minutes, her eyelids refused the task of opening. Deciding that this could wait for a while, she tried to remember where she was and why her right temple hurt like she had slept in a fire.

Fire.

Zuko.

Memories crashed back into her mind and she jerked involuntarily. She was at the palace of the Firelord. Zuko had been there and something marvellous had transpired. But her memories ended right there.

Something warm and living moved behind her, and something that felt conspicuously like a male arm tightened around her waist.

"Sleep," a voice rumbled into her ear. Rather stirringly so.

To be honest, splitting headaches aside, she felt on the whole like in a sensual dream. The room around her smiled intoxicatingly like musk and incense, her body was covered with flowing soft silk. And the smooth, naked chest pressed against her back felt just divine. Warm and comforting.

Wait. Naked chest? Alarm bells went off in her head, doing nothing for her headaches.

She tried to spin around, but the strong arm tightened a little more.

"Don't be alarmed, everything is all right."

There was no mistaking the voice. She was in bed with a naked Zuko. Half naked, but still. That had been _so_ not part of her plan.

Yes, she had come to explore the mysterious drain on her strength she was sure had to do with him. While she was at it, she wanted to see if she could gain some important information. Or maybe – even if that was highly unlikely – see if he could still be prevailed upon to stand up against his father.

"What have you done to me?"

He chuckled behind her and then pressed a kiss onto her hair. She could have done without the shudder that went through her at this.

Then he drew back from her enough so she could turn onto her back, looking at him. At once she remembered in vivid detail the magic that had enveloped them the day before and she had trouble averting her eyes.

He reached toward her forehead and tentatively touched it as if feeling for fever.

"Azula attacked you during our… meditation."

She felt her mouth twitching at his choice of words.

"You have a nasty wound on your temple and had a bad fever for two days. I was…"

He shook his head.

"What?"

"I was worried."

Then he smiled. "You know, water witch, I should ask _you_ what you have done to me."

She smiled a little. "I hoped you'd know."

He shook his head, a smile lingering around his mouth. His finger trailed a path from her forehead over her nose to her mouth, tracing its outline.

"I just followed your lead and it was…" he took a deep breath, drawing his hand away. "It was divine, wasn't it?"

She only nodded, too mesmerized by his sensuous touch.

"How do you feel?"

"My head hurts and I can barely move."

"Maybe you need something to eat."

Her stomach grumbled affirmatively, but she wasn't even sure she could sit up. She lifted her hand and gingerly touched the marred side of the face that hovered over her with an expression of genuine worry.

"Could you do something for me?"

"Everything," he whispered.

She almost wished there had been a trace of mocking in his voice.

She could sense a bowl next to the bed and lifted her hand to bring a bit of water to her finger, not bigger than a marble. She was glad she could do this much.

Balancing it over one fingertip, she held it out to him.

Zuko swallowed heavily and lifted his hand again. A tiny flame ignited at his index finger.

"Give me your strength," she murmured.

………

Zuko was still tying the strings on his outer tunic while he hastened along the corridors to his father's office. He had been summoned only ten minutes ago and although he only reluctantly left Katara's side, he had no intention to anger his father.

"Prince Zuko," Ozai's voice thundered as soon as he had stepped into the room and bowed deeply to his sire.

"Can you explain to me, why you viciously attacked your sister, why you are harbouring a fugitive, an enemy of the Fire-Nation in your quarters and carrying on with her in a manner that upsets the woman who is to become your wife?"

His sister's malevolent snicker was loud enough to be heard through the whole vast hall and Zuko had to grind his teeth the keep himself from repeating what he'd done to her two days ago.

But he got a grip on his violent emotions, and inclined his head deferentially.

"Lord Ozai, I am deeply sorry I've caused you grief but I can assure you I've meant no harm to my family or my people."

"Well said, Price Zuko, but that is no explanation."

Zuko took a deep breath. He had to think quickly if he wanted to keep his secret.

"The waterbender is here on my invitation," he said smoothly. "She claimed to be able to heal me. Unfortunately, Azula thought she meant me harm. My so called attack was only a means of ensuring the survival of my healer and as far as I'm informed, Princess Azula sustained no serious injury."

"You almost killed me you lying jerk!" Azula spat.

He threw her a glance that hopefully communicated that he wished he had.

"Please accept my apology, beloved sister."

Looking back at his father, he found Ozai nodding approvingly.

"I presume you wanted the waterbender not only for her healing capabilities," his father said with an unappetizing undertone to his words. "Or why else would you entertain her in your bed?"

Zuko tried not to squirm. "She was gravely injured from Azula's attack and only today recovered from a bad fever. It was a matter of convenience."

"I guess you needed to cure her illness with your dick," Azula remarked.

He balled his fist against the white rage that he felt boiling within him, but managed not to dignify that outrageous remark with an answer.

No one – including Katara and himself – could grasp what they shared. Only this morning, the tiny contact between a drop of water and a mere spark of a flame had revived Katara so much, she could sit up and eat and even walk again on her own. He would allow no one to soil that.

"You shamed Lady Mai with your conduct, Prince Zuko," his father said.

Zuko's face hardened. "As a future Princess Consort, Lady Mai should be aware that I can choose to take to my bed whomever I want. If she insists on being difficult about such matters, I shall be looking for another companion."

One corner of his father's mouth curled upward. "Quite right, Prince Zuko."

"Father!" Azula almost screamed next to him. "You can't be serious!"

"Be quiet Azula. Your brother is right. It is unseemly for a woman to question whom her husband is bedding. I expect Prince Zuko to select quite a number of concubines once he's married."

"Concubine!" Azula exploded. "This water peasant is no concubine! She is not fit to wipe the shoes of a concubine. She is a stupid cow, reared between peasants, consorting with your worst enemies and spreading her legs for everyone who…"

"Enough!"

Only from the corner of his eyes could Zuko see that even the mighty firelord had flinched at his sudden roaring command. He spread his arms sideways, wicked sharp white flames flickering in both his hands, coiling into Azula's direction.

She took a step back. Ozai's eyes widened a fraction.

Zuko smirked. These new flames were rather cool.

"Take that back," he said slowly, letting the flames flicker a little closer to her.

"You're wrong if you think I'm intimidated by that fancy white light," she said, but her words lacked conviction.

He smirked some more. "You're right, dearest sister. Unlike you, I have no idea how it feels to be hit by that measly white light."

The flames flickered closer. Azula lifted a fist and shot a burst of blue in his direction. The white flames consumed them, growing brighter and taller with their energy.

"Interesting," Zuko said with a grin. "Care to try again?"

Azula put her hands to her side.

"You wouldn't dare in front of father," she hissed.

"You insulted a friend of mine. I'm sure he approves of my defending my honour."

Azula pressed her lips into a thin line.

"Take it back."

"No," she said through gritted teeth and then looked at his father. "My lord, please tell him this is immature."

"I disagree, Azula. It's his prerogative and his obligation to defend his honour. I'm glad he's finally learned that."

Zuko's grind vanished and now Azula was the one smiling a sickly sweet smile.

"All right," she said. "I take back what I said about your esteemed friend. I'm sure I'm grievously wrong and I regret to have caused you distress…" her smile widened. "My beloved brother."

………

Katara stretched luxuriously on the blood-red silky sheets. She'd always hated Zuko for being such a snob about everything, but if she had grown up in such luxury, she would probably be rather spoilt, too.

Since he had obviously left quite specific instructions, his servants treated her like a queen. Two nice but apparently mute girls had helped her bathe, had brushed her hair, applied some make-up and clad her into a new dress, a stunning robe of flowing red silk with golden trimmings. She had been brought food that made her fear she would not fit into the dress anymore two days from now. With nothing else to do, since she was not allowed to leave Prince Zuko's apartment, she had made her rounds of the vast number of rooms, one more luxurious and expensively decorated than the next.

Admittedly, the prevailing colour got on her nerves a little, but he had to live in red rooms, not she. It explained his constant aggressiveness, though.

Although with her, he lately only showed utmost gentleness and was disturbingly sweet and loveable. In short, he was not himself at all.

She wanted to get to the bottom of his sudden personality change, but for now it was nice to be treated so superbly. After what she'd been through, she could do with a few niceties. As far as her experiences went, things wouldn't stay that way.

She had just resolved to get up and do some more exploring, when the door crashed open and admitted a rather furious looking individual.

_That_ was the Zuko she remembered.

"I hate my sister," he shouted and ripped his tunic off him with angry impatience.

"I hate your sister, too," she said sheepishly, which got her his attention.

He frowned at her and then one corner of his mouth lifted a little.

"How are you?" he asked and she wondered at the caring way he asked the question.

"Much better. I healed the wound on my temple, see?"

He untied the strings that held his bulky body armour and let it fall to the floor unceremoniously. Then he stepped over it and leapt onto the bed. The mattress dipped a little under his weight, bringing her even closer to him.

He brought his fingers to her temple and she couldn't suppress a tremble as his fingertips brushed over the newly healed skin.

"Astounding," he said, a trace of wistfulness in his voice.

She lifted her hands and touched his face as lightly as he touched hers, feeling the tightly stretched scar tissue under his eye.

"Does it still hurt?" she asked softly.

He lowered his eyes. The old Zuko would have probably barked at her that it was none of her business, or at least told her that it did not hurt.

"Sometimes," he said quietly.

She put her finger under his chin and made him look at her.

"I'll take it from you, I promise. I only need to find water as clean and magical as the one I used to…"

She swallowed her words at the same moment that he put his fingers over her lips.

"Don't say it."

"Do you know?" she asked, trembling. She had not meant to reveal that the Avatar was still alive. Not to him of all people. But something in his changed behaviour, and of course all that they had shared somehow inspired unreserved trust.

"I had a feeling. Did you know that my sister gave me the credit for killing him?"

Her eyes went wide. That bitch! Once Ozai found out that Aang was still alive – which was bound to happen eventually – there would be hell to pay for Zuko. Again.

"You have to leave," she whispered urgently.

"I will," he said and then grinned mischievously. "I just waited for you to get off your lazy behind."

"Oh, you!"

She took the water from the pitcher next to the bad and shackled his wrists.

He laughed boisterously. "That's not to say I don't like your behind," he wheezed between giggles and she drew the shackles a little firmer, biting the insides of her cheeks to keep herself from grinning. "I rather like the way it fits so snugly against my... umphhgg."

A block of solid ice stuck between his teeth which he melted with a breath of orange fire.

At the contact, Katara instantly felt the connection again, that pulsing force of life that bound them somehow, that had healed her in matter of hours from a nearly fatal wound.

"Katara," he whispered, golden orbs shining warmly. "Stop touching me like that."

She withdrew the water at once and put it back to the pitcher. Then she stared intently at her hands, embarrassed beyond measure.

Now he was the one to lift her chin to force her to look at him.

"I would love to do nothing else but that with you the whole day. But we don't understand what happens between us then and we know that we're both vulnerable when we're in this… state."

She nodded, still trying to avert her eyes.

"I'm not rejecting you, Katara, I really am not."

She ripped her chin out of his hand and scrambled off the bed, toward one of the big windows. The world had just tilted on its axis with the fact that Zuko – _Prince_ Zuko – had told her ever so magnanimously that _he _was not rejecting _her_. What a joke.

"I don't care either way."

"That's a lie and you know it."

She turned around to him and glared. "You're Zuko."

He smirked. "A very obvious but nonetheless accurate observation."

"You lied to me, betrayed me and my friends, helped the Fire-Nation to bring death and misery to the world, you—"

"I am all that and still you're the one who came to me. Why?"

She grasped for a lie, any old lie would do. None came to mind, though.

"I felt… I felt…"

He leaned forward, his eyes on her deadly serious.

"You felt like less than half a person, isn't that right? You felt like you'd dwindle away to nothing and perish in a pile of dust."

"I felt like I was freezing to death inside," she admitted softly, lifting her fingers. "I burnt my fingers because I held them too close to a fire one night, but still it did not warm me. I lost my strength, my abilities. And I can't believe the cruel irony that all this is connected to you."

"My uncle wouldn't find that ironic at all."

She turned back to the window and only barely trembled when she felt him standing behind her, breathing a kiss into her hair.

"You smell like the open sea," he whispered, "And like dewy fresh grass."

"You don't have to pretend with me, Zuko."

"I am not."

He wound his arms around her middle and pulled her back against him. She should have fought him, but didn't.

"If we want to get out of here alive, we have to trust each other," he mumbled into her hair, barely audible. "I can't even tell you about my plans because these walls have ears. You have to trust me implicitly."

Trust him? Another one of those cruelly ironic jokes. As if he had ever, on any given occasion, given her a reason to trust him. The problem was, if she did trust him and he betrayed her, she was dead. If she did not trust him, she was dead as well.

And still she could not regret coming here. She turned in his grip and buried her face against his chest.

"I trust you," she whispered into the fabric of his tunic. "Implicitly."

He tightened his arms around her, his nose still nuzzling her hair.

"I trust you, too. Katara."

After a long moment, he pulled back a little. "I've to show you something."

He took a few steps back and plopped back on the bed. Then he lifted his arm and produced a small, completely white flame.

"What's that?"

"White fire."

"Looks dangerous."

"It is. It's not as hot as the blue flames, but it can absorb them, which is pretty awesome."

"Since when can you do that?"

He gave her a heart-stoppingly sweet smile. "Since you came here."

Thoughts swirled in her mind.

"Do you think I can do new things as well?"

"You should try. But either way, I guess we're not even begun to understand what is happening to us. We need a guide."

She did not need to ask him whom he meant.

………

"You are making quite an effort on behalf of your vanity, Prince Zuko."

Zuko took his father's words calmly. He knew that he would be accused of vanity sooner or later when he used the feeble excuse of having to leave with Katara to look for water with which to remove his scar. He could not very well tell this man that he meant to look for his mother. Or that he meant to take his incarcerated uncle with him.

"Don't we all, my lord," he replied.

Ozai frowned at the cheeky retort but said nothing. There was something new in his demeanour, something that gave Zuko the feeling he would not openly contradict him, would even let him go and then look for another sneaky way to force him under his rule once again.

For whatever reason, his father suddenly feared him.

"Very well, then, Prince Zuko. Go and take that water peasant with you, but we expect you to return as soon as your business is concluded. You may choose whichever troops and equipment you require for your journey."

"Thank you, my lord, I think we'll travel lightly."

"He means to betray you, father," Azula piped up beside him.

Again this was something he had just waited for.

"Which would be a tremendously stupid thing to do, wouldn't it, dear sister? Now that I'm back in father's good graces."

"You're known to do stupid things, dear brother."

"Well, then let's say I've learned my lesson the hard way. Not all of us can be so gifted as you, dearest."

"Azula, I've heard your concern and I think it unfounded. Zuko has nothing to gain by betraying me, and everything to lose."

"The water wench has him under her spell."

Zuko snickered, loud enough for his father to hear. "Were you always this superstitious, or is this a recent development?"

"Enough, Prince Zuko. I wish you a successful journey, you may leave. Azula, you too."

Holding his immense relief in check, he bowed deferentially to his father, threw Azula a nasty look and strode out of the door.

His travel arrangements, as they were, had already been made. A little steam boat lay in port ready to depart on a moment's notice. Since a prince could not travel without the proper entourage, he had to take a dozen servants and another dozen soldiers, not counting those who would operate the ship. He just hoped they could smuggle Iroh on board inconspicuously and keep anyone from noticing. True to his style, his plan had not developed further than that.

Everything else he had to make up as he went.

At the moment, he was striding purposefully into the prison beneath the palace, looking regal and important. Katara hurried along behind him. He'd rather left her on the ship to await his arrival, but he had no idea in which shape he would find Iroh and he needed him at least sound enough to walk on his own.

"I want to see the prisoner," he barked at the guard who stood in front of Iroh's cell.

"We have strict orders not to let anyone—"

The man stopped talking, having turned into a solid block of ice.

His new white flames came in handy for making precise cuts into various locks and bars that stood in their way.

As they reached Iroh, Zuko inhaled sharply at the sight of what had once been his uncle. He did not look alive, much less able to walk.

Katara was already kneeling at his side, water gloves gliding over the emaciated body, over whip and burning marks, bloody and dirt-crusted.

"He has no internal injuries, and no broken bones, but I doubt he can walk. I would need hours to treat him."

"Begin with his face," he whispered.

Panic welled up in him while he watched her washing and healing Ihro's face. They could carry him out, but he could not bring him onto the ship this way without being discovered.

"You have to leave me here, Zuko."

The rasping words ripped him out of his musings and he walked over to his uncle, who had his eyes open to look at him.

"Go as long as you still can and leave me here."

"I won't betray you again," he said, his throat burning.

"I can't walk, I have no strength left."

Katara's head shot up at the last words, looking at him intently.

"We could try giving him some of ours."

He looked, not quite understand what she meant. But then she balanced a globe of water on her fingers, right in front of him, and he understood. And balked at the thought.

"Another guard can come in at any second, and we would be defenceless. Besides, we don't even know if it'll work."

"That's right," she said evenly. "Than we'll have to leave him."  
He closed his eyes tightly and pressed a closed fist against his forehead, willing his brain to come up with another idea. He gave up just seconds later.

"All right, we'll try. How?"

"I suppose we both have to touch him while we… meditate."

She gently put her hand on Ihro's forehead while Zuko grabbed his hand.

Then she lifted her other and while intently looking into each other's eyes, Zuko brought a red-orange flame to the blue orb of water in her hand.

They both gasped at the contact. Fear and desperation laced their union this time, but this only served to heighten their awareness of each other.

"Zuko," she whispered.

"Katara," he said on an exhale.

Reality crashed between them as they felt Ihro slipping from beneath their hands.

Disoriented, they broke the connection and instinctively readied themselves for attack.

"That was quite a trick," Iroh groaned while trying to stand up. "But I guess an explanation can wait until later. If you two don't mind, I'd like to leave."

Dressed as a lowly servant, his ruined face hidden beneath a wide hat and his scarred hands beneath gloves, they brought Iroh aboard without complications. Still, it would only take half an hour, if not less, for the guards to discover the loss of one very valuable prisoner.

Until then, they had to be safely off the ship, with no one the wiser.

* * *

tbc 


	2. Hiding

**A/N: **Ín case some of you might take offense on my portraying Katara as somewhat clueless, remember that only a hundred years ago, girls learnt about the specifics of human procreation from their mothers or older sisters on the day before their wedding.

* * *

**Chapter 2: Hiding**

Back on the ship, Katara could convince herself that it was indeed the real Zuko and not some soft-hearted twin that she had met.

With a perpetual scowl on his face, he barked orders at everyone, including her.

"No, Katara, you won't waste your strength on healing him just now. Clean his wounds and give him something to drink, but I want you to eat and rest and sleep."

As if she could.

His anxiety was so palpable, she wondered why none of the military on board picked up on the fact that their prince was exceedingly nervous.

Night fell swift and dark over the sea while their ship took course to the north edge of the Fire Nation. No one noticed, when a little life-boat was let to water, two people sitting hunched inside, one man prone in the bottom of the boat.

As the little boat drifted away from the mother ship, Katara could see Zuko's shoulders slump with weariness.

"Please tell me you can move this boat, Katara," he whispered. "We need to go this way," he pointed over his shoulder.

She bit back a whoop of joy. And there she'd thought he wouldn't need her for his meticulously planned escape.

"Hold on tight," she whispered to him before she spread her arms, commanding a huge wave to coil beneath the little boat, lifting it a little and carrying it in the direction he'd indicated.

For a moment she wondered distractedly why of all the things to hold on to, he had chosen to wrap his arms around her waist.

………

After the fifth trip from the little boat to the clearing they had chosen as their resting place, his legs felt like rice pudding under him. He had packed a generous amount of provisions, tents, blankets, weapons and clothing. In true fashion, he had not stopped to think how they would transport all those things once they had to leave the boat behind.

As he stepped onto the clearing he almost smiled at the sight of Katara with Iroh's head in her lap, trying to get him to drink some tea. She had meanwhile stacked their things into a neat pile at the mouth of a rock outcropping that could serve as a shelter from bad weather. She had also already unrolled some furs and blankets for sleeping, positioning two such beds into close proximity.

Six weeks, he thought tiredly. Six weeks and she was the centre of his universe. If she knew just how much power she had over him, she'd probably laugh herself silly. Him, the mighty firebending Prince Zuko, brought down by blue eyes and a touch of soft fingertips.

A twig snapped beneath his boots and she looked up at him startled, but then her face relaxed at once. She looked tired, too.

Two or three hours had she kept their boat in full speed toward the little island he had picked out as their hiding place. He'd never dared to hope they would reach it in such a short time. But he had felt her weakening in his arms, unable to help her. As they had reached the island and alighted at the shore, she had nearly collapsed.

Therefore he had dragged everything to the clearing by himself, including his uncle, who – though having lost a considerable amount of weight – was still a heavy man.

He plopped down next to her in front of the fire.

"I'm done," he said, trying to sound unaffected.

"You must be exhausted."

He wiped his hand over his face and nodded a little. Then he chuckled. "I think I'll fall asleep right here."

"Tea?" she asked.

His fingertips brushed hers as he took the cup from her. Their gazes locked for a moment, but she looked away. A pang of hurt pierced his heart.

"What's wrong, Katara?"

"Everything," she mumbled darkly.

"Anything I can change at the moment?"

She was quiet for a moment, but at length spoke in a low whisper. "Why are you so nice to me?"

"You'd rather I behave like a jerk?"

"Well, at least then I would know how to treat you."

Women, he thought exasperatedly. One could just never win with them. All right, if she wanted him to be a cad, nothing easier than that.

"Has it occurred to you that I'm just being nice because I want to get you into bed?"

"But you've already had me in your bed," she said, sounding truly baffled.

His head whipped around to her and as he saw her uncomprehending look, a fierce blush shot into his face, ending somewhere under his topknot. He'd known she was probably a virgin, but he'd not for a moment believed she might be so utterly… innocent. How could she be so beautiful, so seductive, so much a woman, and not know what a man saw and wanted when he looked at her? He shuddered to think how many dangerous situations she had probably avoided only by pure luck, not knowing what danger truly lurked in the mind of men.

Shaking his tired head clear of such thoughts, he placed the cup on the ground and got up.

"Forget what I said. I'm tired. Good night, Katara."

She nodded mutely.

He shed his outer clothes and boots and crawled under the covers, ready to pass out as soon as his head rested somewhere soft. But even though his body felt like solid lead, sleep did not come easily.

A few minutes later, clothes rustled beside him and a cool, lithe body slipped under the cover and nestled itself closely next to him.

"I'm cold and you said you wanted me in your bed."

He bit back a groan as she snuggled even closer to his side. Maybe it was a good thing he was so exhausted.

"Your plan was excellent," she murmured drowsily into his chest. Only moments later, her breathing evened out and she grew heavy against him. He wound his arms around her and pulled her tight against him, darkness enveloping him as he – for the first time in ages – felt truly proud of himself.

………

He woke up when the sun beat warmly down on his face, and birds chirped incessantly somewhere in the trees above him. A gust of mild air carried the spicy scent of herbs and fresh greenery. He stretched under his blanket and decided that for weeks he hadn't slept so deeply and so long. He felt truly rested. And ravenous.

From the fireplace, the scent of freshly boiled tea and toasted bread wafted toward him. The place beside him was empty and though might have liked to find a beautiful waterbender right beside him in bed, he would for now be contend with breakfast.

To his surprise, he found not only Katara sitting at the fire, sipping her tea, but also his uncle. He looked haggard and pale, but he was sitting upright and was obviously well enough to drink tea.

"Good morning nephew," he greeted him cheerfully. "And my most heartfelt thanks for you coming to my rescue."

Zuko was about to greet him back, when Katara turned to look at him. Her face was unusually pale, dark smudges under her tired eyes told him that she had apparently used the time before he woke to heal Iroh.

"You'll go back to bed at one," he shouted at her. "You're no use to me when you're sick with exhaustion."

"Good morning to you, too, Zuko," she replied calmly.

He glowered.

"Someone has gotten up on the wrong side of the bed," she whispered to Iroh conspiratorially, making the old man smirk.

"He was always a bit grumpy in the mornings," Iroh confided. "Although he's not much of an evening person either."

Katara laughed at that.

Zuko fumed. He'd been fully prepared to turn and stomp off to… somewhere, had not his stomach reminded him that it needed food and right now. He sat down as far away from the two smiling individuals as possible, willing Katara to hand him something to eat without him having to ask for it.

Fortunately, she did not let him wait and his jingling nerves settled down a little as wonderful warm bread, tea and dried bacon filled his stomach.

"I meant what I said," he bit out after a while. "I need both of you in shape. We can't stay here longer than a few days."

She pressed her lips together and her eyes narrowed. "I know what I'm doing."

"Have you looked at yourself today?" he exploded.

She gasped at his insult. Then her eyes narrowed some more and she pointed a finger at him.

"Have you, Prince Zuko?" she hissed. "You look like death warmed up, and you have the audacity—"

"Children, stop!" Iroh cut in, looking more amused than angry. "This solves nothing."

Katara stared into the flames, sulking.

"Maybe we could… meditate," she offered after a while. "I've already told your uncle about it and—"

Zuko couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"You told him _what_?" he nearly yelled.

Her eyes went round. Damn her innocence! She did not even understand why he was angry.

He could not satisfactorily explain it, but he'd felt from the beginning that the bond between them was something that only belonged to the two of them. Was something completely intimate, not to be shared with a third person. It had felt weird enough to revive his uncle that way and that had been an experience he did not care to repeat. Even their very first contact in front of his sister had felt as if he embraced and kissed her in front of prying eyes. Not to mention that it always left him most mightily aroused.

He had wanted to discuss the effects of this… meditation with his uncle, not the act itself. But as it looked, it was too late for that. Damn all blabbermouthed females.

"Don't blame her, Zuko," his uncle tried to placate him. "I've asked her what happened back in prison and she told me."

"She shouldn't have."

………

Katara jumped to her feet, too angry to sit still for another moment.

Stupid, overbearing, arrogant, conceited… jerk! Who did he think he was? Yelling at her first thing in the morning, making cryptic remarks all over the place and treating her as if she was a child.

The night before he had said something about wanting to have her in his bed, and as she had acted on the suggestion, his whole body had gone rigid as if he had discovered a snake under his blanket. He had relaxed soon enough, but still!

And damn her own stupid self and her idiotic body to react in all kinds of weird manners to him. She had barely accepted that there was some sort of bond between them that needed exploring, but that didn't necessarily explain the tiny sparks that prickled over her skin whenever he only accidentally touched her. It also didn't explain why she found herself contemplating his physical attributes at every opportunity. Not just his face, but his broad shoulders, the lean waist and long, strong legs. Not only did her stomach flutter every time she looked at him, but something deep inside her, a dark, frightening force, slowly uncurled itself at the mere thought of him. Something that demanded more than just a fleeting touch, more even than a kiss. More than the spiritual connection they shared through their meditation. Unfortunately, she had only a very vague awareness of what this more would entail. Maybe her mother could've told her, had she lived.

But Zuko knew and that was the reason he was so insufferable and as of this moment, she was done putting up with it.

Grabbing two fistful of water, she threw it at his head. Not to fight, just to annoy him. If there was one thing about which he was right, it was her weakened state. She could barely hold herself up on her feet, much less fight.

As it was, he had been prepared for her attack and countered it with a blast of red-orange, the water sizzling into a cloud of steam.

Pinpricks of exquisite pain ran over her whole body, from the roots of her hair down to her toes. A feeling like holding half-frozen hands near a fire and feeling the blood warming in every little vein. She needed that. She needed to get warm, she needed to feel this energy and she had absolutely no fight left in her to argue herself out of it.

"Katara," he shouted at her in warning, springing to his feet, but she was through listening to him.

She drew water from another source and sent a slim tendril of it toward him as a slashing whip. He assumed a fighting stance but did not send any flames, just dodged her assault. Well, in that case she had to aim a little better.

"Come on, Zuko," she called, "you can do better than that."

The tip of the water-tendril caught him across the face, water running down his neck and into his tunic.

His eyes narrowed to angry slits, he sent another short burst at the attacking water, but she quickly moved it out of the way.

"Pathetic," she said.

Colour rose into his pale cheeks as he balled one fist above his head and produced a slender tongue of fire, winding around her water-whip like a snake.

Steam rose upward, but just for a moment.

"Oh Katara," he groaned, his features softening into an expression of pure pleasure.

Her own voice had stopped working. After the exhaustion of the last two days, she felt like someone who had been starved for weeks and had now sat down to a seven-course-meal. Full, raw and not altogether good.

Her breath came in short bursts, her fingers trembled as she held the whip in place, concentrating on his eyes and on holding the temperature of water just below the boiling point.

_Zuko-Zuko-Zuko_

She chanted his name in her head, suddenly hoping fervently he would forgive her for forcing this on him, when he had so clearly not wanted it.

_Katara_

She heard his voice in her head as if he had spoken to her. Her eyes widened a little from being half closed in gluttonous bliss before.

_Zuko_

The response was clearly visible in his eyes. He'd heard her.

_Katara, please stop._

She had no defences ready for the pained pleading in her head.

Water fell to the ground in a splash. She had let go of it so fast, Zuko's fire flared dangerously close to her before he extinguished it.

As the reality of the situation set in, she looked down at the ground, studying the tip of her toes. From out of the corner of her eyes she could see Zuko looking as if he hoped for the earth to open up and swallow him. She could understand the sentiment, she felt it herself. Maybe if Toph was here, she might have obliged them.

"Harrumph"

She chanced a quick glance at Iroh, who sat there with an open mouth. If he had been laughing, she would've gone to find Toph.

"This is the most astounding thing I have ever seen, and trust me, I've seen a lot."

With trepidation, Katara stepped closer to the fire, carefully avoiding looking at Zuko.

"Katara, do me the favour and look at Zuko. What do you see?"

She closed her eyes for a moment and battled the urge to whine, _Must I?_

If she would never have to look at Zuko again, that'd be fine by her.

Thankfully, since Iroh had only asked her to look at him, Zuko stared stoically somewhere else.

After Katara had gotten over the shock of seeing the anger and embarrassed so plainly written across his face – although she had no idea why he would feel embarrassed – she indeed noticed what Iroh had meant.

Zuko looked much better than he had just a few minutes ago. The shadows of fatigue had vanished from under his eyes, his face didn't look drawn anymore, his posture was relaxed, his back and shoulders straighter.

"He looks… healthy," she reported dutifully, averting her gaze as soon as she'd said it.

"And so do you, Katara," Iroh said warmly. "I saw it happening right before my eyes. But this you already know, don't you?"

"I do."

"But there's more to it, isn't it? That why you said Zuko wanted to ask me about it."

She nodded. "I heard him… in my head. I heard him talking to me."

She could feel more than see Zuko's head snapping around to her, glaring.

"A telepathic connection. How fascinating. Anything else?"

His anger came off him in waves, she could physically feel it.

"Show him, Zuko," she said softly without looking at him.

The light of the white fire reflected in Iroh's eyes as his mouth fell open once again. He took his cup of tea and sipped a few times. Then he turned to Zuko.

"In two or three days time, I might be strong enough to teach you how to handle the white light. In the meantime, you two might want to explore this connection and the power it gives you. I am sure it is both your destiny. But Katara," he said, turning to her with a slight smile and jerked his head toward his nephew. "Let him decide when and where."

Angry once again, she stared Iroh squarely in the face. "Why? Because I'm just a girl?" she screeched. "Or just a _water-peasant_? Am I not good enough to make such decisions?"

A sheen of pink dusted the old man's cheeks as he threw a quick glance at Zuko, who had his face buried in his hands.

"Maybe he can explain that to you," Iroh said ominously while trying to clamber to his feet. "Meanwhile, I will look for a place where an old man can take a decent bath."

He proceeded to shuffle away from the clearing, leaving her with a young firebender who looked about ready to kill. Not just necessarily her, but she was rather sure she was at the top of his list.

"Well," she prompted him with a bit more bravery than she felt. "I'm waiting."

"You," he said, pointing a finger at her. "You are the most irritating, insolent and obnoxious girl I've ever met."

"That is all very flattering, but no explanation."

"You have to follow my orders," he hollered, seemingly at the end of his tether. "When I say, don't heal my uncle until I say so, you don't heal him. When I say let me tell him about this, you keep your mouth shut! And you never… ever… embarrass me in front of other people!"

"I give a flying dingo about your orders and I do and say as I please. I'm not your subject Prince Zuko, and you can't order me around like one of your servants."

He looked a little stunned at her tirade, apparently completely unused to someone contradicting him. He looked so genuinely puzzled, she softened her tone a little.

"I did not mean to embarrass you, and I'm sorry. But if you'd explain to me why it repulses you so much, it might be simpler for me to adhere to your wishes."

One could almost watch how all the anger drained out of him. He slumped a little and sat down again, running his hand over his face a few times.

"Good grief, Katara. You really have no idea what this is about, have you?"

"Apparently not," she gave back testily and sat down next to him. "That's were the explanation comes in I suppose."

He took a deep breath. "This connection, it affects me in a certain way. It affects me like… like lovemaking."

She knew she gave him a blank stare, but she couldn't quite help herself. He had lost her.

He quickly looked up at her and then groaned in a pained way, burying his face in his hands once again.

"Please tell me you know where babies come from," he said, his words muffled in his hands.

This was the oddest conversation she ever had. Especially since he kept changing topics.

"Of course I know that. Women bring them into the world."

"Well, the interesting question is how they get into the women."

To be completely honest, she had wondered about that quite a lot lately.

"Gran-gran used to tell us that the water spirit…"

She stopped as another pained moan came from the man beside her and his shoulders shook. He wouldn't be crying now, would he?

"No, please, don't say it. I can't…" His shoulders shook some more and it occurred to her that he might not be crying. He was laughing. The fiend.

He took a couple more breaths and then faced her again before wiping tears out of his eyes.

"I'll explain it to you, I promise. Just not… not now. I'd be thankful if you'd do what uncle said. Leave the when and where to me."

With that he heaved himself to his feet again and started walking away.

"Zuko," she called after him.

He halted his steps and slowly turned back to her, and unidentifiable expression on his face.

"I probably should not tell you, but I truly need this. And it… it feels really good."

He closed his eyes for a long moment and then turned back again.

"See, exactly therein lies the problem."

* * *

tbc

Please let me know what you think.


	3. Burnt Rice

**A/N:** Thanks for the reviews. Thanks to Exintaris for swift betareading.

* * *

**Chapter 3: Burnt Rice**

Zuko wandered along a slim path through the thick underbrush of the little island's vegetation, hoping it was the one his uncle had taken.

He'd chosen this island because it was far from the well-known shipping lanes, and because it had a fresh water source and was surrounded by steep cliffs, that gave them the opportunity to see any ship soon enough before they were discovered.

Still, he was anxious to leave again.

During the three weeks he had been back from Ba-Sing-Se, he had investigated the few sources of information regarding his mother, and was now certain that he wouldn't find her on Fire-Nation soil. Although she was from a well-connected and noble family, she wouldn't have gone back to her family, where her husband could have easily found her. She surely harboured secrets Ozai did not want to be uncovered.

But one of Zuko's aunts had confided in him that as children, she and Ursa had always dreamed of one day going to Tang-Ma-Hal, the City of Flowers, in the heart of the Earth Kingdom. It was a feeble clue, but he had to start looking somewhere, and Tang-Ma-Hal it was.

The murmur of a little water-fall drew nearer and Zuko found himself hoping he wouldn't catch his uncle in the middle of bathing. He had had enough embarrassment for one day.

Warmth prickled along his cheek as he remembered his awkward conversation with Katara not half an hour ago. He still could hardly believe that she would know so little about… certain topics, what with her brother being such a skirt-chaser.

For young women of the fire-nation, such knowledge was part of a well-rounded education, and chastity an out-dated commodity. Men actually preferred their companions to bring experience into a relationship. He himself had certainly benefited from Mai's extensive knowledge in that area. Chasing the Avatar around the world to regain honour had not allowed him amorous pursuits of any kind, so he had actually been the inexperienced one six weeks ago.

The trouble was, everything he had had with Mai paled in comparison to what he felt at a mere touch of Katara's hands, at a look into the deep pools of blue. Nothing could rival the bliss of holding her in his arms, if only in an innocent embrace.

He was uncomfortably sure that he would not find what he had with her with anyone else. Life would be easier if he could, but when had his life ever been easy.

He could not just be content with the woman happy and willing to be in his bed. _**No**_, he had to have the one who was supposed to be his enemy, the one who mastered the one element that was deadly to his own. He had to have the one whose innocence made him feel like he sullied something pure and holy. He had to have the one who would not be content with him giving her his wealth, his status and his body.

She demanded his soul and his heart. Forever.

He was not ready for forever.

"Ah, there you are, nephew. I've waited for you."

Zuko started at Iroh's jovial greeting, but was at once relieved to find him decently clothed, sitting with his back against a tree.

Zuko lowered himself onto the ground across from him.

"How do you feel, uncle?"

"Better than two days ago, not quite as good as six weeks ago," he answered cryptically.

"What I saw on your body looked like extensive torture," Zuko said quietly. He had not yet faced the guilt that, while he had spent his time with Mai, his uncle had suffered agony. "What did they want to know?"

"I have no idea," Iroh said. "They never asked any questions."

They both sat in silence for a while, no more words necessary on that subject. They both knew that Ozai and Azula sometimes just made people suffer for the sake of inflicting pain.

"What has changed, Zuko?"

"I have," he said. "You were right, it was a bit of an uneven process. But my changing meant nothing as long as I didn't know what I truly wanted."

"You wanted to get your honour back."

"What kind of honour is it, when a man has to do the most dishonourable things to get it? I've killed, uncle. I lied, I betrayed, and brought misery to people who have never harmed a living soul. Is that honourable?"

"No. Then what about your father's love?"

Zuko snorted.

"He's never loved anyone. Not mother and certainly not his children. He accepts Azula because she's like him, and he approves of me only when I show myself as power-hungry and cruel as he is."

"But you're heir to the throne. That's your birthright."

"Yes," he said with determination. "And I intend to become Firelord once the world is rid of him who only brings pain and suffering to his own people. How many of our people have died in this war, uncle?"

"Too many," Iroh said quietly, wiping his eyes. "Far too many."

"I want to restore the Fire-Nation to its former glory. I want our people to be renowned for their achievements, their art and their inventions. I don't want people in other Kingdoms to say Fire-Nation as if it's a curse word."

Iroh smiled at him. "Then you have your work cut out for you. What is your plan?"

"Well…"

Iroh quirked his eyebrows. "You have none?"

"I want to find mother. Then I need to find the Avatar."

A wide, beaming smile lit Iroh's face.

"He's still alive? Marvelous. As far as plans go, that sounds good enough to me."

"Will you be with me?" Zuko asked quietly.

The older man gave him a warm, wide smile. "Of course I will."

Again silence settled between them, allowing room for their thoughts on the future. For Zuko, it was a welcome respite from worry. For the first time in a long while, he had the feeling everything would turn out well.

"What about the girl?" his uncle asked casually after a while.

"I don't know. She is a… a complication."

To Zuko's surprise, Iroh didn't question that. He could've pointed out how much more difficult his escape would've been. But then again, Iroh was never one to point out the obvious.

"Maybe you should alter your plan. Find the Avatar first and leave me there. He needs someone to teach him about bending fire and I could do that. You can then go and find your mother, leaving Katara with Aang."

"No!"

The word was out of his mouth before he had thought about it. Unbidden, the memory of her hastening to embrace the boy rose all too clearly in his mind.

"She's mine," he growled.

"That's for her to decide. So far you haven't done much to endear her to you."

"It was so easy with her back at the palace. I don't know what's wrong now."

"You were in control back there. Here, you have to accept that she is your equal."

"She is not my equal! She's a woman, raised between peasants, a waterbender. And rather ignorant of certain… facts."

Again, Iroh did not challenge his hastily spoken words but fell silent for a while.

"Remember how you always felt that everything was given so easily to Azula, while you had to fight every step of the way?"

He nodded mutely.

"You were given a power that far surpasses hers. You were given a good heart. And once you follow it, as you have already started to do, you'll emerge stronger than she could ever hope to be."

With that, the old man climbed to his feet, cradling in his hand a cup of tea he had brought with him. As he walked past Zuko, his foot snatched at a root hidden under a patch of moss and he stumbled, emptying the contents of the cup right above Zuko's head.

Instinctively, he lifted his hands to protect himself.

And as if time had slowed down, he saw a protective sphere forming around him, deflecting the tea and making it drip harmlessly to the earth next to him.

Both uncle and nephew stared with open-mouthed wonder.

Iroh was the first to find his tongue.

"Your journey has only just begun."

………

On the little clearing, Katara had busied herself bringing their little campsite into shape.

Like a sweet little wife, she thought broodingly to herself. Or better, a servant. But she couldn't just sit around like the mighty prince certainly did, whiling her time away. She had to do something.

A few times she had contemplated taking the little boat and trying to find Aang by herself, but she couldn't abandon two people on an island. Regardless of the fact that one of them was an insensitive, arrogant ass.

Her ire rose again as she thought of him laughing at her. Stupid… arrogant… overbearing… conceited… blockhead.

With fury churning within her, she stamped her foot to somehow express her anger.

A roaring flame shot up from the little campfire, flickering menacingly as she stared at it in shock. But before she could understand what had happened, the flame died and left only faintly glowing embers and a portion of rice burnt to black crisps.

"Whatever happened to the rice?" Zuko asked good-naturedly as he came strolling back with his uncle in tow, looking so satisfied with himself, she could have hated him for his expression alone.

"As if you don't know," Katara hissed.

Iroh smiled warmly at her. "Zuko was with me on the other side of the island. Whatever mischief occurred, it could not have been his doing."

Katara stared belligerently into the glowing embers, uncomfortably aware of two pairs of curious eyes on her.

"The fire behaved strangely," she admitted at last.

As no snort, chuckle or outright laugh came forward, she chanced a glance at the two men in front of her. They looked nothing short of completely amazed.

"What… uhm… what did you do?" Zuko asked.

His serious expression gave her a sense of unease, but she swiped it away. Let him worry.

"Thinking up insults for you," she said loftily.

Zuko's face creased into a deep frown.

"So you were angry?" Iroh clarified.

"Rather."

Iroh nodded, a faraway look in his eyes. "Interesting."

"We should show her, uncle," Zuko said urgently.

"I don't know…"

"Do it."

He still looked deadly serious and lifted his hands into a bending stance.

Katara rolled her eyes. Show-off.

To her surprise, Iroh took a bowl with water that he had brought to brew tea, and threw it at his nephew. It splashed into his face, drenched his fine tunic and dripped from his hair.

She stared disbelievingly for a second, and then a rather unladylike snort escaped her.

Zuko glowered under his dripping eyebrows. Iroh studied the ground to his feet and bit his bottom lip.

Laughter bubbled up in her.

"If that was meant to cheer me up," she said, her chest hurting with suppressed mirth, "It's working."

She fell back onto the grass behind her whooping with laughter. She laughed until her belly hurt and tears rolled down her cheeks.

She had no idea when she had last laughed like that.

………

As night wrapped their little island in dark velvet, Zuko watched with growing irritation, as Katara made a production of packing her sleeping pelts and blankets and moved them to the farthest side of the camp fire. He was mildly surprised that she hadn't decided to spend the night on the other side of the island.

Her inappropriate laughing fit might have lifted her mood for a while, but that obviously didn't mean he was forgiven for whatever he might have done wrong.

Uncle Iroh was already snoring deeply under his sleeping blankets. Zuko was honestly glad to see how fast the old man was regaining his strength. Katara's healing abilities were truly magical.

Sighing, he crawled under his own blankets and settled himself to sleep.

Then he turned. And turned once again. Rolled unto his back and stared at the stars above for a while. Gave up on trying to count them. Then closed his eyes and counted meditation candles.

Turned again.

Then, with a muttered oath, he got up, gathered his bedding in his arms and marched to the other side of the camp. So, she thought she had to be sulking? That didn't mean he had to lose his sleep.

As if it was the most natural thing in the world, he unrolled his furs right next to her, noticing that her eyes were still wide open. Apparently someone else had also trouble sleeping.

He lay down, facing her.

She wrinkled her nose and turned her back to him.

Very mature, Katara, he thought to himself, his mood improving with every second.

He scooted closer until his body was settled firmly against hers, only a few blankets separating them. She feigned sleep, but he could tell that her body was rigid with silent anger. He wondered how long it would take until she doused him with water.

Only one way to find out.

Inhaling deeply, he buried his nose in her hair. Rainwater and fresh greenery, but also a trace of ice and freshly fallen snow. Her smell alone revived him and calmed his frayed nerves. He'd never slept more soundly than with her scent surrounding him.

But right now, sleep was far from his thoughts. A sudden ache to touch tingled in his fingertips. Never one to deny himself, he slowly lifted his hand and let his fingers slide through the silky tresses. They glided around his knuckles like a living being, caressing him, beckoning him to go further. As his fingers delved deeper, they suddenly found the exposed skin on the side of her neck. Gooseflesh puckered under his fingertips, as if his touch made her skin crawl. But she said nothing, did nothing, and he was far too entranced to stop right then.

Loosely gathering her tresses, he swept them to the side, exposing a perfect slope of skin the colour of rich tea. His roaming hand looked deadly white against it as he drew lazy circles on from her shoulder up to her earlobe and back again. She had the softest skin ever. Like cool velvet. Touching it wasn't enough, he needed more. Much, much more.

Without thinking, he wound his arm around her body, spread his hand over her belly and drew her even closer.

She stiffened, resisted.

He brought the tip of his nose down to her neck, continuing what his fingertips had started, inhaling the scent of her skin. She mellowed – and gave in.

The smell of her skin was more intense than that of her hair, darker, more sensual. Through his greedily widened nostrils, the female scent went right into his bloodstream, awakening the most primal male instincts. He drew a gasping breath as his blood heated, pumping incessantly toward his groin.

"Katara," he whispered.

A tremor went through her and another bout of gooseflesh chased over her skin. He brought his mouth to her neck, feeling the tiny pinpricks against his lips, that had turned oversensitive all of a sudden. His lips slightly parted, he ran his mouth from her shoulder toward her ear, lingering at the spot where the heat of a vein greeted his lips, pulsing rapidly. He couldn't resist touching it with the tip of his tongue. The pulsepoint leapt, accelerated, and through the drumming of his blood in his ears he heard a stifled gasp.

And then she turned her head just a fraction, exposing even more of her neck to his hungry mouth. Had his head been clear enough to think of what he did as a planned seduction, he might have smiled right then. But he was far too preoccupied with yet another blood-boiling sensation. The taste of her skin.  
With ever mounting greed, his mouth explored her neck, tasting, planting sloppy open-mouthed kisses on every inch of skin laid bare to him. Again and again he found the pulsing vein, so little protected by only a thin layer of fragile, petal-soft skin.

Of its own accord his body pushed against her, and it was only by supreme force of will, and a single-minded preoccupation with making love to her neck, that he could keep his hand from straying from her stomach.

She surprised him with a whimpering sigh when he sucked her earlobe into his mouth, grazing it with his teeth before releasing it. Although far too drowned in sensation to notice much else beyond his own cravings, on the edge of his consciousness lingered the impression that she liked what he did.

His mouth roamed down again, the edge of his teeth daringly nipping here and there. Katara breathed in shallow, gasping breaths.

Mine, he suddenly heard his own voice in his head. She's mine.

A fiery burst of possessiveness clouded his vision for a moment and he sank his teeth into the skin close to the thrumming vein and started sucking. Hard. Until blood rose warmly under her skin, until he could almost taste it on his tongue.

And then, with a plop and an angry snarl, his personal patch of skin was ripped from under his mouth, and instead he found himself hit by a furious glare, silver blue in the moonlight.

"What is wrong with you?" she hissed.

Even a splash of cold water couldn't have been so sobering.

"I'm… I'm sorry," he stammered helplessly.

"You bit me!"

"I'm sorry."

With his blood still located far south from his brain, smooth conversation didn't come easily.

She made to get up, probably to find herself a less dangerous place to sleep, but he quickly grabbed her arm, holding her down.

"Please stay," he urged, hating the pleading tone in his voice.

She tugged on her arm and he was aware that she hadn't yet yelled at him because Iroh slept nearby. That fact had temporarily slipped Zuko's mind.

"I promise I won't touch you," he whispered.

She looked unconvinced but stopped trying to free her arm.

"I can't sleep without you."

She gave him a hard stare. "One false move and I'll freeze you to the next tree."

………

Though he had been convinced he would not fall asleep easily, he awoke the next morning refreshed and with a grumbling stomach. Everyone seemed already up and about; there were smells of tea and bread. Life was good.

Katara stubbornly avoided his gaze while his uncle entertained them with slightly silly stories. If not for the still noticeable weight-loss, one would not have detected a difference from his former state of health.

Katara had braided her hair in a rather weird fashion. A thick braid hung over one shoulder, constantly interfering while she was trying to eat.

After a while, it had irritated him enough and he reached out and brushed it to her back.

He saw it at once. A round, purple mark about the size of a coin.

She glared at him and put her hair back where it had been.

He hung his head as if in shame, but truly it was only to hide a grin. He'd left a mark on her, a quite visible one. Too bad he couldn't leave his signature on it and it wasn't in a more exposed place. It sure would give the Avatar something to think about.

"That looks like a nasty insect bite you have there, Katara," his uncle piped up.

"Yes," she answered, throwing him a malevolent glance. "I think it was a very nasty, dangerous insect. I'll heal the bite right after breakfast."

Too bad, he thought.

………

Katara knew that Zuko followed her, as she followed Iroh's instructions on how to get to the little waterfall to take a bath. But he knew better than to approach her and risk bodily harm.

She was not even especially angry at him. She was generally angry. At herself, at the situation, at him.

At the things he could make her feel with his fingers, his lips… and his teeth. She had been kissed before and she knew that these things were supposed to be pleasant, but Zuko hadn't been anywhere near her mouth, and still she had all but melted at what he had done to her neck. Her neck! No really intimate place. A piece of skin, plain and slightly sunburned.

She shuddered to think what she would go through if he had managed to get his hands – his lips, she mentally corrected – on any other part of her. On parts that had fairly started to hurt with envy at the single-minded attention to her neck.

She took a deep breath and resolved to forget about it. She had no idea what her body was trying to tell her, but she had a very clear feeling that this way lay danger. Something lurked there, something all-consuming and frightening and, although she was no coward, she was also not stupid.

Her dark thoughts dispersed at the sight of the beautiful waterfall and the clear, azure pool of water that surrounded it. The high trees gave way to thick bushes, blooming with sweetly smelling blossoms, insects humming industriously from one brightly coloured patch to the next. A few rocks reached into the water, their flat, sun-kissed surfaces ideal to lie down and luxuriate in the sun.

She laughed with joy and shed her outer clothes as quickly as possible, diving head first into the cool water. She doused herself with tiny showers a few times, twirled playfully on a self made coil of water, bent it around herself and revelled in the softly massaging caress of her beloved element.

Pure bliss.

At last, she let her hands roam over her body, checking for injuries out of habit. She was brought up short when she became aware of the bite-mark again. It wasn't so much a bite-mark, since his teeth hadn't broken her skin, but the blood he had sucked to the surface had formed a slightly swollen bruise. The skin around it was tender and, as she probed the skin, a tingling jolt of pleasure shot through her body right into her core that had yearned so much for him last night.

With small circling motions, she healed the tiny broken vessels and calmed the irritated skin.

"Did you like it?"

She spun around, only to find her tormenter leaning against a rock at the edge of the little pool. Bare-chested for some reason and looking altogether too pleased with himself.

With a flick of her wrist, she sent a generous amount of water flying his way. He made no attempt at fighting it, just turned his head a little as the water splashed against him.

"I'll take that as a yes."

He pushed himself away from the rock and waded deeper into the pool. Water trickled down his naked chest, running along the indentions between his well-formed muscles, drops of water sparkling in the sun.

Beautiful, she thought before she could catch herself.

His face turned serious all of a sudden and he stood rooted to the spot.

"So are you," he whispered hoarsely.

Blood shot hotly into her face as she realized she'd said that out loud. Making a swiping motion with her arm, she hid herself in a cocoon of water.

"You can't stay in there indefinitely," she heard him shout from outside.

"I can try," she gave back bitterly.

Since it didn't look as if he was taking his cue to go, she released the cocoon, splashing a generous wave at him while she did it.

"You are driving me insane," she grumbled in his general direction as she stomped out of the water.

"Well, again, so are you," he said, unperturbed, wading after her.

She climbed on a sun-warmed rock to dry herself, irritated she could find none that afforded space for only one person.

He sat down next to her, closed his eyes and steam started to rise from his clothes and body.

"Nice trick," she commented.

He grinned. "Comes in handy when one finds oneself constantly frozen against some uncomfortable place."

"If one wouldn't be such a bother, that wouldn't happen so frequently."

He took a deep breath. "Katara, we should really try to get along."

"You attacked _me_, remember?"

"I didn't attack you, I kissed you."

"I didn't want you to."

"That's not quite true. Besides, you forced that… that meditation on me without my consent, so now we're even."

"That's different. It's a purely spiritual connection that benefits both of us. I don't have the slightest idea why you are rejecting that."

He let out an exasperated breath.

"Because I don't know what happens to me then. I'm not saying it's unpleasant, but I don't know where it leads and what the consequences are. I just know that we have no control over it and are extremely vulnerable while it happens, because we have no perception of what is going on around us."

She stayed silent for a long time.

"This is exactly how I feel about what you did to me last night."

* * *

tbc 


	4. Healing

**Chapter 4: Healing**

Her words sank in slowly, assembling themselves into a pattern, into something that felt as if he ought to recognize it, as if he ought to know what it meant. It was just a vague notion, but it seemed essential to explore it.

"Remember what you told me yesterday about that spiritual connection?" he asked. "How it really feels good and how you need it?"

She nodded almost imperceptibly and he could've sworn her cheeks looked just a bit pinker than before.

"See, this is how feel about what I did to you last night."

As he listened to his own words, something in him clicked into place.

Man, woman. Fire, water. Spiritual, physical. Two sides, same coin. Something about all this mess suddenly made sense.

And she had to see that too.

"I still owe you an explanation," he said softly.

"An explanation," she shrieked and jumped to her feet. "What do you think you can explain to me?"

"I don't know anything about our spiritual connection, but I can explain to you about the… physical side."

She let out a short, bitter laugh.

"Oh, I don't think so, _Prince_ Zuko," she snarled. "Because you know _nothing_."

"I'm—"

"And don't start with some biological facts about how babies come to be. I may not know the particulars, but I am convinced that it has nothing whatsoever to do with what is happening to us."

"But—"

"You cannot explain why – of all people – it is you I am drawn to. It doesn't explain crap about why I can't sleep when you're not right beside me and it doesn't explain why I weaken when you're not around.  
"It doesn't explain what I feel when you look at me. It doesn't explain why I ache here" – she put her hand over her heart – "and here" – she spread her hand over her lower belly – "when you touch me."

He was speechless.

"And you don't know a thing more about this than I do, isn't that right?"

He swallowed hard but said nothing. But she was probably right.

"I didn't ask for any of this, Zuko," she said, slumping down next to him again, her anger obviously spent. "I belong to Aang, I should be at his side, helping him to heal, helping him to find someone to teach him about firebending. He needs me and I should be there. I should not be here with you."

Red haze clouded his vision at her words. Just how much blows to his ego did she think he could take?

"Do you think I asked for this?" he exploded. "Do you think I dreamed of being… chained to some water peasant, unable to even think straight when she's not around? Did you really think I asked for that weakness?"

"Weakness?" she echoed sharply, blue eyes blazing with indignation. "So who was it who gave you the white fire?"

He quirked his lips in a self-deprecating grin. "It's gone."

Her mouth fell open. "What?"

"I can't do it any more, it's gone. Uncle wanted to teach me what to do with it and I couldn't produce a single spark of it. It was a fluke. Just like…"

He bit his lip, angry he had let that slip. Maybe she hadn't noticed.

"Like what?"

No such luck. He sighed. Might as well tell her, maybe it would give her something to laugh at. Even if it was at his expense, he liked how laughter transformed her already pretty face into a bright vision of pure beauty.

"I thought I… yesterday morning, I thought I had shielded myself from some tea uncle had accidentally poured over me. It looked a little like I was… waterbending."

She didn't laugh.

"Is that why you looked so serious when I told you about the fire?"

"Yes. Uncle was sure we were onto something, that our… connection somehow gives us control over both elements."

She appeared stunned. The thought had obviously not occurred to her.

"But then, you saw what happened when we tried it again."

Katara snickered a little. And although the memory of his humiliation should have made him angry, remembering her boisterous laugh suddenly made him smile.

"I probably instinctively shielded myself with fire and somehow… didn't see it. Or something."

"Iroh wanted me to try the thing with the fire again this morning. Didn't work either."

They both sat in silence then, the sun beating warmly caressing their skin. Once again a bone-deep sense of peace settled over him, inexplicable really, in his current situation.

Suddenly, Katara jumped up, in a burst of joyful energy.

"Oh, I almost forgot," she exclaimed and jumped from the rock right into the pool.

A jet of water surged upward as her body hit the water, dousing him once again with cool liquid.

"Not funny," he shouted at no one in particular.

He watched as she dove under water, then swam to the left side of the little waterfall. Then, to his alarm, she started climbing the slippery rocks right next to it.

"Katara, what are you doing?" he shouted over to her, but what with the waterfall rushing loudly, she probably couldn't hear him.

He stomped his foot, but seeing this wouldn't help; he climbed off the rock and swam after her.

While he was still trying to find sufficient hold on the slimy and moss-covered rocks, Katara had already reached the edge and vanished from his sight. With a few strong pulls he heaved himself over the edge moments later, only to be stunned by the vista before him.

Above the waterfall was another smaller pool of water, fed by a clear spring at the other side. Tall trees grew right beside the pool, their mighty roots visible in the clear water like brown-green snakes. Unlike the other pool, this one was completely shadowed by treetops; an eerie, greenish light making it look like a place from a fairy tale.

Katara was already climbing over the thick roots, trying to reach the lively gurgling spring.

"What are you doing?" he asked in an urgent whisper.

For some reason, loud speech seemed as out of place here as in a temple.

She turned and gave him a broad smile.

"Clear water for you," she mouthed back, gesturing to her left eye.

A hot rush of… something went through him and almost knocked him off his feet.

"Oh," he said, being painfully aware of wearing an utterly stupid expression.

But Katara was already at the spring, filling a little flask with the water and afterwards tucking it into her underwear. He took care not to look too closely. Her whole attire was a little distracting, to say the least.

With admirabledexterity, she climbed back and stood before him in a matter of moments, grinning proudly.

"Let's go back."

"Do you… uhm… do you want to do it now?" he asked, carefully avoiding to sound hopeful.

"I'd rather do it tonight," she said lightly. "Remember, I rise with the moon, you rise with the sun."

They turned back to the ledge and both halted at once when they looked down the way they had come.

"It looks higher from here," Katara whispered, biting her lips.

"We'll probably break our necks."

"No one asked you to come after me," she sniped.

Then, taking a deep breath, she held her arms in front of her, formed a bowl with her hands and slowly drew it upward.

To Zuko's complete amazement, the sound of the waterfall suddenly grew softer, as if the fall didn't hit the water below any more.

"Hold onto me," Katara commanded without looking at him.

He awkwardly locked his arms around her and no sooner had he had a firm grip on her lithe body, when she stepped over the ledge.

What the…?

They fell into a cushion of water and he felt how the water slowly lowered them and then, with a pulsing wave, threw them into the middle of the pool below.

"Now I'm wet again," he complained, while slowly taking his arms away from her.

Katara rolled her eyes. Then she swirled around once, with another of those sweeping gestures that usually meant that he would be wet or cold in an instant. Or both.

The water moved away from them, swirling into a cocoon around them and then freezing to solid ice. He looked up and discovered that they were not completely enclosed; the top of the structure was open, as if they were standing in the middle of a barely opened tulip blossom.

"Are you cold?"

Katara's softly spoken words made him look back at her. Her eyes were huge and soft, a glimmer in their depths asking a question other than the one she had just voiced.

He knew without a doubt that if hesaid no, the ice would be gone and nothing else would happen. She apparently respected his wish to decide about the when and where.

Then again, they were far away from prying eyes, and even if Iroh were here, he couldn't see a thing through the blue-white walls of ice.

Closing his eyes, he turned his palms outward until they almost rested against the ice. With a low hiss, two flames sprang to life from his hands and circled the confines around them, forming a band of fire.

The chilly air warmed and filled with steam, and tiny glittering droplets clung to Katara's long, soft lashes.

_Zuko_

Her voice was clear in his head, even though his thoughts started to get muddled with the desire growing inside him.

_Katara_

Even in his thoughts, he sounded rather desperate. He took a deep breath and tried a meditative technique, tried to let the sexual energy flow freely through him in the hope of turning it into something more… appropriate.

But the air around them was saturated with wet warmth; their icy confines had turned into a swirling mass of water, sparkling orange with the fire that blasted inside. As if the water was saturated with the essence of every flower from this island, it emanated a flowery, sensual scent that made any attempt at meditative concentration useless.

_Zuko, kiss me. _

His eyes widened. His fogged brain must be playing tricks on him, suggesting what he most wished to do right now.

But then she looked at him expectantly, her face angled toward him, her lips wet and slightly parted, pink, soft and incredibly inviting.

He leaned toward her, slowly. If he was wrong, she needed to have the chance to back away.

She did the opposite.

She met him halfway, her breath caressing his lips as her mouth was only a hair-breadth away from his.

He closed the remaining space and at that moment, a bolt of lightning hit him. At least that was what if felt like. A massive charge of energy ripped thought him with painful intensity.

Their contact broke after it had barely lasted a second, both of them stumbling back. Steam hissed upward as the water-structure collapsed and extinguished the ring of fire around them.

It took him a while to ascertain that he was not dead and still in possession of all his faculties, before he could look at her again.

She seemed as bewildered as he. "What happened?" she asked meekly.

He wiped a hand over his wet face, noticing that the area around his left eye felt irritated and bruised. More so than usual.

"As you with your usual astuteness have already remarked," he said with a shrug. "I have not the slightest idea."

"Did you feel it too?" she asked. "The… the shockwave."  
He smiled at her likening to a wave what to him felt like a lightning bolt. So typical.

"Yes, I felt it too."

He held his hand out to her and led her out of the water. He had enough soaking today to last him a lifetime.

While Katara bentthe water out of their clothes, they quickly recovered from the initial shock of what had just happened.

"Does that happen every time you kiss a girl?" Katara asked dryly.

"Fortunately not."

She looked at him with a mischievous smile and cocked her head.

"How many girls have you kissed, Zuko?"

He shook his head, not quite able to hide a grin. "I'm not telling."

"I'll tell you my number if you tell me yours."

Now that was interesting. He drew his tunic over his head and looked at her speculatively.

"How many?"

"You first," she said while fastening the sash around her dress.

He clamped his mouth shut, turned and led the way toward the campsite along the narrow, half-overgrown path.

"Oh come on, I swear your secret is safe with me."

He stomped along for another few minutes.

"Three," he finally admitted.

"Including me?"

He sighed. "Yes."

She didn't comment on that.

"Four," she said after a while.

He stopped dead in his tracks, which led to Katara bumping into him.

He swirled around. "Four?" he asked incredulously. "Including me?"

She glowered at him.

"Of course."

He turned around and walked on, resisting the urge to set something on fire.

"Let me guess," he said through gritted teeth. "One of them was our Arrow-boy?"

"His name is Aang, and yes, he was."

"And the other two?"

"Hey, you named no names either."

"Jin and Mai."

"Mai?" she echoed, distaste apparent in her voice.

He shrugged uncomfortably. "She has had a crush on me since we were children. It was convenient."

"I see. And now I'm convenient?"

The absurdity of the statement tickled him so much, he could not help but laugh.

"You're anything but. So out with it, who were number two and three?"

He rubbed his eye that was seriously starting to bother him.

"Jet and Alpay."

He dug his heels in. "Jet?"

She bumped into him again. "Will you stop doing that?"

"Jet?" he repeated.

With a scowl on her face, she walked around him and was now leading the way.

"Obviously, I'm prone to ill-advised choices when it comes to the men I kiss."

That stung. The itch around his eye started to drive him insane.

"Who is Alpay?"

She was silent for a while but slowed a bit. "A boy of my village. I was seven, he was nine."

"Ah, a penchant for older men, it seems."

She swirled around to him, prompting another collision.

"Not my choice. Sokka put him up to it, to see if I'd beat him up."

His mood lightened considerably. "Did you?"

"Of course I did. And stop scratching."

Just to be contrary, he rubbed his eye again with the sinking feeling it was swelling shut. "It itches."

She took a step close and peered up at him.

"That really looks awful. Have you a reaction to a flower around here?"

"Wouldn't both my eyes be affected in this case?"

"True," she said, unconcerned by his suffering. "In this case I suppose the healing session will have to start now."

With those words, they reached the campsite, where Iroh had brewed fresh tea and beamed at them when he saw them. His face fell quickly, when he took a look at Zuko's face.

"What happened?"

"I don't know," he said through gritted teeth, pressing the heel of his hand against his eye. The itch had turned into a full-fledged pain and Iroh's concerned face didn't convince him that he had a mere reaction to some poisonous plant.

"For Agni's sake, it's bleeding!" Iroh cried, his face turning ashen.

Katara had meanwhile sat down in front of him with a bowl of fresh water, the little flask still safely stored away in her underwear. If he wasn't in so much pain right now thathe was afraid he'd start to cry, he would haveasked her why she didn't use the water from the spring.

She gently pulled his hand away and he felt tears well up in his healthy eye. This hurt almost as badly as right after he had received the wound. But then soothing cold water suffused the burning skin and a few more tears spilled down his cheek, this time from relief.

"It's reopening," Katara whispered.

"What do you mean?" his uncle asked the question he could not form.

"The scar tissue turns into a wound again. Which is good."  
"How can it be good?"

"If it's a wound, I can heal it."

More soft coldness took the pain around his eye away and he cared for nothing more than that.

The swirling motions of the water around the ruined part of his face brought him to a kind of trance, and when he awakened, both his uncle and Katara looked at him in amazement.

"What?" he asked.

"How do you feel?" his uncle asked cautiously.

"Better."

He lifted his hand to his face and tried to probe the skin that had hurt so much. He found the familiar scar tissue on his cheek, but as his fingers travelled upward, the skin suddenly turned soft and even. Suddenly frantic, he explored the vicinity of his eye. And then his mouth fell open.

"I've no idea what happened, but since the old wound opened, I could heal it. It is only the area directly around your eye, the part of the scar that was deep red before. That's healed. You can open your eye properly now and your lashes will grow again." She lowered her head and looked at her hands. "But even with the water from the spring, I could do nothing about the rest."

Once again he fingered the area around his eye and then gave Katara a wide smile.

"This is more than I ever hoped to have."

He jumped to his feet and gave a playful punch into the air.

"Yeehaw!"

White flames emerged from his fist.

"You also got your white fire back, I see," Iroh remarked, unperturbed.

Zuko took his fist down, examined it and then experimentally tried to ignite a white flame again.

It worked.

"I think, nephew, we should go down to the beach where you can set nothing aflame, and experiment a little with that new trick of yours."

Katara stood up. "Can I watch?"

"And learn all of our secret firebending techniques?" he asked, knowing he would like nothing better than to show off in front of her.

She hid a smile beneath a half-hearted scowl.

"Of course you can come."

Katara watched with fascination as the old and young firebender threw flames back and forth, on the beach, carefully testing what Zuko could do with his newest ability. Iroh seemed especially amazed that the white fire could absorb the blue flashes he threw his way without even breaking a sweat.

"All right, nephew, let's see how much power you can put behind it. Send one steady flame horizontally over the water and see how far it reaches."

Zuko went into a fighting stance, looking as if he held an invisible bow, both fists clenched, body taut and face drawn with concentration.

With a roar, white fire shot from his fist, at least ten yards away from him and growing larger. Sweat beaded in tiny droplets on Zuko's forehead as he tried to increase the reach of the flame as Iroh had suggested.

Since Katara had met Zuko four days ago, she had been absolutely aware of him. With closed eyes she could feel exactly where he was, especially when he started to firebend. Something woke in her every time he handled his element, something about his palpable strain to reach the limits of his strength compelled her to… do something.

Without really knowing what she was about to do, she walked to him, stood beside him and moved into a stance that mirrored his exactly.

The inexplicable force inside her that seemed so connected to him flared at his nearness. She concentrated on the flame, on its energy, the heat it generated.

The white flame shot a few more yards forward in a sudden explosion.

A seagull squawked in alarm at the sudden flare that had almost singed the feathers of the careless bird.

Zuko's stance faltered only seconds later and he turned, looking at her with a blank expression.

"What…"

To his credit, his uncle did not look much smarter at the moment.

"That was… interesting," the old man mumbled, as the three of them stared at each other.

Katara hoped he wouldn't ask her to explain. Fortunately, his mind had wandered along a different path.

"I wonder if it also works the other way around," Iroh mused. Then a smile lit up his wrinkled face.

"Just one way to find out, right? Katara, can you produce a column of water? Nothing fancy. Let's see if Zuko can… influence it somehow."

Unconvinced, she did as she was asked, forming the water that washed to the shore into a small column, about as high as herself.

As Zuko came up to her side, she could feel his presence without looking. Once again the force that connected them pulsed through her, and before she had registered what she was doing, the water column turned into a vertical jet of water about five times as high as it was before, dousing all three of them. Another seagull squawked in indignation at being hit by water.

Zuko shook himself like a wet dog.

"That's the fourth time today," he grumbled.

Iroh looked immeasurably pleased. "This is marvellous," he announced. "I have to meditate on this."

With these words he walked away with a spring to his step that seemed rather unusual for such an old man.

Katara turned to Zuko and with a quick flick of her wrist bent the water out of both their clothes. Then she laughed.

Zuko glowered.

"You," she said, poking her forefinger at his naked chest, "you are a waterbender."

Zuko looked about ready to kill, although a tiny twitch at the corner of his mouth gave him away.

"No, better yet," she said, still laughing. "You're a water _peasant_."

"I'll get you for that," he growled and lunged for her.

With a shriek, she pivoted out of his grasp and ran along the beach.

He bounded after her and although he had the longer legs, she was quicker in avoiding his grasp at the last moment. At least for a while.

As she was about to double back cleverly, he anticipated her move and threw himself into her path. She stumbled over him, fell and was immediately pinned underneath a heavy, panting and very male body. With ease he caught her fluttering hands and held them next to her head with a strong but not bruising grip.

"Gotcha."

She still giggled as she tried to catch her breath, but onseeing the intensity in his unsmiling eyes she sobered and went completely still.

"I'm going to kiss you now," he said evenly.

"I know."

Still holding her hands, he inclined his head towards her until their noses touched. Katara's heart beat furiously in her chest, whether from being chased before or not, she could not tell.

"On second thoughts," she whispered as his lips came unavoidably closer, "We might want to avoid another incident like this afternoon."

His warm breath slid softly over her lips as he halted his movements. His breath smelled of tea.

"I'm willing to take the risk," he said in a hoarse whisper, leaning even closer.

Their bodies were so closely pressed together, she could feel his chest muscles bunch with the strain of going slow, of not just crashing his mouth down on hers.

"Don't I have any say in the matter?" she asked, already angling her head to give him better access to her mouth.

His lips were so close already, she could feel them curving into a slight smile.

"No."

* * *

tbc 

Please let me know what you think.


	5. Compromise

**A/N:  
**With this chapter, the story changes to an M rating. And I'm not kidding. This story is about two people dealing with a very strong emotional (spiritual) and physical attraction they can't quite control, meaning it's about love and it's about sex.

Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 5: Compromise**

Zuko didn't know how to seduce. He had no need for such knowledge. Not even with Mai. Well, especially not with her. On their voyage back to the Fire-Nation, she had been the one to lean against his shoulder and offer their first kiss. The same night in his cabin, she had come to him and offered much, much more.

He found that sex was a powerful outlet for all his pent-up emotions. Grief, guilt, anxiety, he took everything he had and gave it to her. The first time he fumbled his way between her legs by pure instinct, driven by an insatiable lust, and poured all this into her. For a short moment after, he had felt free.

It hadn't lasted long, though. But Mai had been ready for him whenever he reached for her. Sometimes so often in one night that they both slept through the day.

After two or three such nights, she had introduced him to the concept, that – just as fighting – the sexual act had quite a number of different styles, variants and positions. She showed him quite a few, and he found he preferred those that prevented him from seeing her face, or rather, made it impossible for her to see his. Just once had she tried to turn and look at him. He had forced her head back around with his fist in her hair.

He hadn't imagined being with Katara while he senselessly pounded into Mai's body. Although Katara was never far from his thoughts, he knew it would never be like this between them. Never.

Two weeks after their first night, Mai surprised him again. She was on all fours, him battering into her, when she carefully reached to one of his hands that held her hips in a vise grip, and brought it between her legs to the place where they were joined. While he stilled his movements for a moment, she brought his fingers to a tiny bud of flesh somewhere above her opening and showed him a few elaborate moves he apparently ought to perform. He started moving again, both his fingers and his hips, when her usually even moans and gasps grew frantic. Fascinated, he kept doing what she had showed him until she cried out, drawn out and throaty. Her inner walls clenched around him in delicious waves and soothed the friction between their bodies with a wash of warm wetness. The shock at this novelty quickly prompted his own release.

He was beyond fascinated, he was utterly dumbfounded.

The concept that females could experience sexual pleasure had never occurred to him. It was, quite frankly, completely absurd. Yes, Fire-Nation girls were expected to come experienced to the bed of their future companions, but that was to ensure the pleasure of the man. He needed to have a woman in his bed who knew how to satisfy him. Of course women were expected to do their duty gladly, just like every duty they performed for men should be done with a deep sense of fulfilling the purpose of their existence.

If women were to experience physical pleasure during sex, who could guarantee they wouldn't look for it elsewhere, should the man be away for a length of time, or – Agni forbid – unable to perform? Who would guarantee that a man's children were his own and not those of a particularly skilled stable-boy? Unthinkable!

Still, he ultimately found their couplings more satisfying if he could bring her to climax before he found his own release. He learned that it took different amounts of time on each occasion, and healso found that Mai tried to trick him into believing she had had her satisfaction by exaggerated moans and cries. But he knew how it felt, so he always drove her on until she reached the peak.

Apparently, this made him some sort of hero. At least in Mai's eyes. His sister – of course – thought differently about that. He learned that while about to enter the tea salon where he usually spent time with his sister and Mai, if Azula wished to discuss things with him.

He was a bit late and stopped dead in his tracks when he heard his name mentioned.

"So, tell me, dear friend, what sort of lover is my dear Zuzu? Does he just cuddle with you or can he manage a decent intercourse?"

"You'd be surprised," Mai answered and he could almost hear a smile in her voice. "He hardly ever leaves it at under three times a night, he's passionate and very thoughtful."

Such thorough praise made him creep a bit closer to the door, not quite ready to announce his presence.

"Thoughtful?" Azula echoed. "Whatever does that mean?"

"Well, he insists on me enjoying every encounter as much as he does. Sometimes I am already half-dead with exhaustion, but he goes on until I climax. Extraordinary, really."

He grinned proudly to himself.

"What a weakling," Azual sneered. "Your enjoyment should not be his concern."

"I find it commendable that it is."

"I'm sure father will view that differently."

"You wouldn't tell your father something so intimate? Azula, don't! I'll never tell you anything ever again," Mai cried, sounding at least as shocked as he was.

"Don't fret, Mai, of course I won't tell him. The topic makes me want to lose my breakfast."

Don't believe her, Zuko had thought silently into Mai's direction. Azula always lies.

* * *

Now, finding himself on top of a heavily breathing Katara, he wished he knew more about how to please a girl, how to seduce, how to make her want him just as much as he wanted her. 

After the first slight contact of their lips, he drew back a fraction, waiting for a stroke of lightning, a repetition of what had happened before, something he had almost expected to happen.

It didn't.

He lowered his head again, pressing his lips against hers with a bit more insistence. Her lips were soft and pliant under his, and he gasped at a wave of pleasure tingling along his spine. His lips parted, he placed tiny kisses along her closed lips, touching them every so often with his tongue, waiting, praying for her to open for him.

Her bottom lip seemed especially delicious: full and plump, it invited closer consideration. He trailed the tip of his tongue along the lush fullness as his mouth moved over hers and then, only with the utmost care he could muster, he took it between his teeth, just to ascertain exactly how plump it was.

A tremor went through the body beneath him and she gasped, a tiny, half-broken sound. Her mouth opened a little with the forced inhale, and he used to opportunity to taste the insides of her lips, explore them with his tongue, press his mouth even closer.

_Zuko_

She was in his head again, uninvited but not unwelcome. Her wrists suddenly strained against his hands still holding her, even though her mouth parted further under his ministrations, giving him even deeper access to the sweetness behind her enticing lips.

_Zuko_

Her hands still fought him, harder than before.

_Don't say hold just now_, he pleaded with her silently. _Give me a few more moments._

Apparently it was easier to be a pathetic, pleading fool when it was just in his head.

_Zuko, let go of my hands,_ she gave back, her thoughts as breathless as the rest of her. _I need to touch you._

It did not take much deliberation to decide that this was a reasonable demand.

He let go of her hands and they instantly found their way to his neck, into his hair, caressing him, holding him to her, as if there was any danger he would draw back from her any time soon.

Since touching seemed to be allowed, he resolved to do some of it, too.

Bracing his weight on one of his hands as not to crush her, he cupped one side of her face in one hand, gently tracing her velvety soft skin with his thumb. He was very much tempted to shower her face with kisses, but then again, her eager mouth, her adventurous tongue and her tiny sounds of pleasures were too exciting to give them up just now.

"Zuko! Katara!"

This voice was not in his head and definitely not the voice of the girl writhing so intoxicatingly beneath him. It was the voice of his uncle.

"Where have you gone to, it's pitch black outside."

He froze in horror, but then heaved a sigh of relief at the realization that they were shrouded in darkness. For some reason, they hadn't noticed darkness falling around them.

"We're over here," he shouted, his voice a little squeaky. "We'll be up at the camp in a minute."

Katara had already desperately struggled herself free from under him, and was now awkwardly brushing sand and wrinkles from her clothes.

He held out a hand for her and ignited a soft light with the other.

"Come."

They walked side by side silently, Katara's hand a bit damp in his. He could almost smell her nervousness and embarrassment. With some measure of desperation, he hunted for an innocuous topic of conversation.

"Maybe I should have let you light the way, since you're a firebender now," he said lightly.

Katara's palm grew a bit damper.

"I'd rather not try," she said. "Aang once tried to firebend and he…"

Zuko thought he had a pretty good idea what had happened, judging from the tone of her voice.

"He burned himself?"

"He burned me."

He clamped his mouth shut, keeping the derogatory remarks inside that floated through his brain. What a careless idiot! And he was supposed to be the world's saviour?

"After that," she continued, "he never tried again. That's why he desperately needs a master firebender to train him."

He nodded while dread settled in his stomach. He knew well enough whom Katara thought of when she said it. She would not be happy if he told her about his plans.

"I've burned myself a few times while Iroh trained me," he said to change the topic. "But then I'm not the prodigy Azula is."

"I'm sure you're the better kisser."

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, he could sense that she hadn't meant to say them, to betray along which lines her thoughts had wandered. He could almost hear the blood rush to her face, while his blood rushed just the other way.

He slowly turned to look at her. Had she any idea how she looked right now? Did she have even an inkling of the danger she was in, saying things like that? Did she know that right now he was only seconds away from throwing her onto the sand with himself on top ofher, proving to her just what else he was good at?

With infinite effort, he ripped his gaze away from her glittering eyes, her rosy cheeks and her kiss-swollen lips.

"You're quite good at that yourself," he mumbled. "I have only two others to compare you to, but you're at the top of the list."

She missed a beat, but then said with a smile in her voice, "Well, so are you."

He chuckled. "That's good to know. Alpay had me a bit worried there for a minute."

She gave his shoulder a playful punch just as they stepped into the little clearing, where Iroh was already busy arranging and re-arranging their belongings.

"Ah, there you are!" he exclaimed. "I have something to show you."

They sat down by the fire, only reluctantly releasing each other's hands.

"About what happened on the beach?"

Iroh gave him a blank look.

"You wanted to meditate about it, remember?"

"Ah, yes," Iroh said. "Well then, let's talk about that first. It's rather simple, really.

Remember how I once told you that all elements are part of a whole, that the separation between them is an illusion?"

Zuko nodded.

"We can't live without earth to plant our food and build our houses, we need water to drink and to wash, fire to warm ourselves and air to breathe. All those elements are connected in an eternal stream of energy, always flowing from one to another, existing in perfect balance."

Zuko resisted rolling his eyes. He could not begin to count how often and in how many variations he had heard that particular lecture. Katara seemed fascinated, though.

"Between the two of you, the artificial separation between your two elements has broken down. Energy flows freely from one to another, you can draw on each other's strength."

That finally had Zuko's attention.

"So you're saying we cannot actually bend the other's element, we just make it more powerful?"

Iroh nodded. "Exactly. Additionally, I think that somehow during your meditative connection, you two draw from a greater source of strength, of which I sadly know nothing."

Katara threw him a worried glance and bit her bottom lip.

"So how do we handle this phenomenon?" she finally asked.

Iroh turned his hands palm up and drew his shoulders almost to his ears. "I have not the slightest idea. I suppose that's for you two to find out."

Zuko almost growled in frustration. Once again, more question than answers.

"What if… what if we don't want all that?" he asked, his eyes to the ground.

"Right," Katara said quietly. "No one asked us. With everything that is going on right now, our lives would be much easier if we didn't have to worry about some weird… connection on top of everything else." She threw a bit of wood into the fire and added almost inaudibly, "A connection with someone I am not even sure I can trust."

Zuko flinched, but decided to say nothing.

Iroh studied Katara for a while, then asked evenly, "You've known the boy Aang for a while now, do you?"

She nodded.

"How happy was he about his fate to be the one to have the weight of the world on his shoulders?"

"It is a gigantic burden for him, but I think he's learned to accept it."

"Was he asked if he wanted to be the Avatar?"

"No," she whispered.

Iroh smiled and sipped his tea.

"This ability was given to you for a reason. It is an obligation and I think it is crucial to end this war. Isn't that what both of you want?"

Reluctantly, Zuko nodded, and saw from the corner of his eye, that Katara nodded, too.

"In that case, you will have to learn how to handle this connection and…" he cleared his throat and grinned at them, "everything that comes with it."

Zuko could feel that he looked at both of them for a while, smiling to himself. Then he put his teacup down and spread his arms wide.

"Now let me show you the truly interesting thing I did just now!"

They looked up wearily, to see Iroh point to three weird wooden structures, laden with part of their gear.

"I've fashioned frames that will help us to carry all the things my overly cautious nephew brought with him. I still think we won't be able to carry everything all the way to Tang-Ma-Hal, but at least most of what we'll need."

Zuko winced. He had somehow hoped the topic would come up later. Preferably when they would be standing in front of the city gates of Tang-Ma-Hal.

"Why would we want to go to Tang-Ma-Hal? Isn't that the flower city of the Earth Kingdom?"

He sighed. There we go.

"Hasn't Zuko told you?" Iroh said, eyes round with wonder.

As much as Zuko loved and adored his uncle, sometimes he just wish he wouldn't be quite so… himself.

"No," Katara said with as much meaning as one could give that one syllable, and slowly turned to him, eyes blazing. "_Prince_ Zuko hasn't told _me _anything."

And no one could say his title which quite as much disdain as she could.

"We haven't exactly been talking much," he mumbled, a corner of his mouth curling at the memory of what they had been doing instead.

"You…" she said, pointing a finger at him, "You will tell me about your plans at once and we _will _discuss them."

With stoic calm that was a barely maintained front, he stared into the fire.

"Tomorrow morning, we will take the boat and try to reach a little port at the coast of the southern Earth Kingdom. From there we'll travel on foot to Tang-Ma-Hal."

"Why? What do you hope to find there?"

"My mother."

Katara was silent for a long moment.

"Zuko," she said softly, as if she was about to talk to a child, "I understand your wish to find your mother. But the timing…"

He jumped to his feet, his calm having evaporated under her condescending pity.

"I will _not_ discuss this, do you understand!" he shouted. "I have decided that we will go there and we will. There is nothing you or anyone can say that will change this."

She was on her feet in an instant, her angry reddened face only inches from him, yelling just as much as he was.

"You selfish, spoilt little… _prince_. Can't you just once look past your own bloated self and see that there is more at stake here than your personal happiness?"

"How dare you!"

"It's always _your_ honour, _your_ dignity, _your_ plans! Always you! Out there is a world at war, and we have only about two months left to prevent the Fire-Nation from destroying the world's balance forever. We have to find Aang as soon as possible, so Iroh can start training him in firebending. We have absolutely no time left to lose!"

"You don't argue with me, water peasant!" he hollered back. "I've made my decision. My uncle promised to go where I go and you _have_ to go with me, as we've just learned."

Her face hardened and she took a step back, folding her arms across her chest.

"I will go back to Aang if it's the last thing I'll do. I'd rather die than cater to your princely whims for what may very well be the rest of my life."

"Children…" Iroh cut in, but Zuko silenced him with a death glare.

"And I will not have you questioning my decisions," he hissed at her and then stomped away.

………

Katara didn't know if her emotions had ever been subjected to such volatile changes as they had during the last four days. As she tried to drill holes into Zuko's retreating back, she also decided that she had never met a person who could be so exasperating, so irrational, so self-serving, so arrogant and so… so… so… _Zuko_.

"He has his reasons," Iroh's calming voice came from the fireside. "He is just not used to sharing them."

She snorted.

"I understand well enough how it feels to lose a mother. If I had a chance of finding mine again, you can be sure it would be the first thing I'd do _after_ I helped Aang saving the world."

Iroh nodded thoughtfully. "But even though you have lost your mother, you still have a family."

"But Zuko has…"

Her words died in her throat as she understood what Iroh tried to tell her.

"Still," she said, her anger draining out of her. "Can't he see how little time we have left?"

Iroh gave her an enigmatic smile.

"You should talk to him and try to understand him. And maybe there is another option both of you don't see right now."

Why did she always have to be the sensible one? Why could others always be irrational, angry and plain stubborn, and she had to be the one smoothing the ruffled feathers? She had hadenough of this with Sokka, Toph and Aang; she truly didn't need a perpetually ill-humoured prince on top of that.

"I have no idea where he'd run off to."

Iroh inclined his head toward the path that let to the beach. "The cliff that overlooks the sea, have you been there before?"

"I've been there, but it's pitch black night. I will probably fall down the cliff and he'll let me."

The old man chuckled and shook his head. "So much anger. Here, take this."

With that, he threw a ball of fire to her. Far too afraid to know what to do with it, she blocked it with water.

Now Iroh laughed heartily.

"I see your reflexes as waterbender will always be stronger than everything else."

Then he laboriously climbed to his feet and walked to her, while holding another little flame palmed in his hand.

"Try this. You don't need to d anything with it, just keep it floating in the air."

She held her right hand out to him and watched with trepidation how the little flame floated toward her. The heat radiated through her, soothing away her fear. Soon the flame flickered directly above her open palm.

"Am I holding it, or are you?"

"Look at me."

Afraid to let the flame out of her sight, she peered at Iroh out of the corner of her eye. He had his hands behind his back.

Just to be sure, she stretched her hand away from herself as far as she could and slowly walked along the path as if she was balancing an overflowing bowl of soup.

The cliff was truly only about a minute away from camp but she still heaved a sigh of relief when she reached it and saw a shadow perching at the edge of it, looking like a man meditating.

Slowly, as not to disturb the flame, she sat down beside him.

"How do I turn it off?" she asked, a bit embarrassed.

"Whatever happened to waterbending?"

A wave of burning anger shot hotly into her face as she summoned an extra large portion of water to her, extinguishing the flame and spraying the obnoxious man beside her.

"That was unnecessary," he said coolly.

"As was your remark," she snapped.

This was getting better and better. Now she couldn't even go back to camp because he had provoked her into giving up her only source of light. He must really love to have people being dependent on him.

"I'm surprised you let him talk you into carrying the flame in your hand. You could have used a stick."

"I might as well learn how to do some firebending. One can't really depend on firebenders being around at all times."

"Katara…" he began, but then stopped for some reason. Silence settled thickly between them once more as she could feel him struggling with words.

"I'm listening, Zuko. That's what I came here for, carrying that flame in my hand."

He chuckled mirthlessly.

"I truly want to understand," she clarified.

"Do you know where I got my scar?"

"Some beginner's firebending accident?" she asked tartly and regretted the tone at once. If she wanted him to open up to her, she would probably have to be more… nice.

"My father burned me because I had voiced some misgivings about his war strategies. It was an unforgivable insult, and after being maimed I was banished, sent to find and capture the Avatar. I was promised I would regain my honour and my father's love and respect."

She didn't know if he expected her to say something to that horrible tale, but she was far too shocked to say anything at all.

"I don't know if a woman can even understand that, but as a son… you always think you have to make your father proud, to prove that you're a worthy successor. Being such a disappointment to him as I always was… you can't possibly know how that feels."

Tears burned in her throat, and since she could not speak she put her hand on his arm, glad when he didn't shake it off.

"With what I did four days ago, I betrayed my father, my sister and my people. By helping the Avatar, fighting at his side, I'll be fighting against my own family, against my own people. Against young men with whom I played toy soldiers when we were children. I'll be fighting against the guards that used to protect me, men who were once under my command. And I'll probably be fighting against the woman who was expected to become my wife."

The mention of Mai finally gave her back her ability to speak.

"But you know that you're doing the right thing, Zuko, don't you?"

"I know it here," he said tapping his finger against his forehead, "but I need more than uncle to give me the feeling that it is right here." His voice turned even rougher than usual as he put his hand over his heart.

"I am weak when it comes to them, to my father and even Azula. They will defeat me, turn me into their willing tool again and again, as long as I don't know that I have one parent left who loves me for who I am, and who thinks that I'm doing the right thing. I won't be any help to the Avatar otherwise.

"I'm sorry, Katara, but I have to find my mother first."

For a long time, they sat in silence. Hoping he didn't notice, she wiped a few stray tears from her cheek, irritated at herself at being so affected by something that he had told her in such an emotionless way. But maybe that was the reason this made her so sad, because, for the first time since she had met him, she understood the source of his constant aggression, could glimpse the amount of pain that had turned him into who he was.

"I'll come with you," she said finally.

Beside her, he flinched. "Excuse me?"

"I'll help you find your mother," she said, her tone surer than before. "I won't expect you to help Aang before we've found your mother. That is a promise."

She could feel his agitation without even looking at him. He fairly vibrated with it.

"But I have one condition," she added.

He went completely still, she wasn't sure he was even still breathing.

"We accompany Iroh to where Aang is staying right now. We'll be on our way as soon as we know he's with them."

Zuko was silent for so long, she was sure he was thinking about a way to tell her no.

"It's a sensible compromise, Zuko. You'll not lose face if you agree to it."

He heaved a deep troubled sigh. "We'll lose at least two days and we don't know where he is."

Knowing that she had already convinced him, she allowed herself to smile into the darkness. "I know where he is, and with our combined abilities we might just be able to make up for those two days."

Another few moments went by before he finally whispered, "All right."

She gave his arm an encouraging squeeze.

"You know," he said then, "I'm not used to making compromises. I'm used to giving orders and having them obeyed."

The pout was so audible in his tone, she could not help but chuckle.

"I'm sure you'll get used to the compromises in no time. I'm a pretty good teacher."

He sulked for a few more seconds.

"My royal ego is severely wounded."

At that moment, Katara's mouth fell open. Never ever had he made a self-deprecating joke.

She recovered after several moments and scooted a bit closer to him.

"I'm deeply sorry. Is there anything I can do to help?"

He turned his head to her, their noses touching slightly. She was giddy with anticipation, irrationally so in the light of her anger at him not too long ago. It looked as if she would have to learn to live with the extremes.

His warm breath tickled over her lips. "There's something we might try…"

* * *

tbc 


	6. Departure

**Chapter 6: Departure**

Kissing Zuko convinced Katara that she had never truly been kissed. Not one of those other kisses had been this otherworldly, whole-body experience that reduced her to breathless wonder and quivering excitement in a matter of seconds.

There was something unhurried, something utterly gentle and patient in the way his lips softly moved against hers, that was so at odds with the Zuko she thought she knew. With the quick-tempered cad who seemed to be so used to things going his way.

And it was this difference that intrigued and confounded her because, with him, she never quite knew what to expect.

She would have felt safer if she had the chance to observe him from afar, tosee how he turned out, tosee if he would once again turn traitor when opportunity presented itself. But every bit of distance she could have brought between them was made impossible by what they shared.

She felt as if she wa**s **balancing on the mouth of a volcano, seeing the molten stone seething within, about to erupt. She sensed the danger, but she could not keep away. Too intoxicating was the taste of his mouth, the velvety feel of his tongue. Too sensual the smell of the night air, heavy with scents of flower and wet earth. Crickets chirped around them, the only sound aside from their own ragged breathing and the rustling of clothes as two bodies pushed against one another, seeking more contact, more sensation. Half choked moans were made deep in their throats, but greedily swallowed by the next hungry kiss, the next thorough exploration of what would make the other one moan again.

Unlike the time before on the beach, Zuko had both his hands free this time and he knew how to use them. His left cradled the back of her head, holding her against him just as eagerly as her own arms strained around his shoulders, holding him to her.  
The fingers of his right hand had danced along the exposed patch of skin at the back of her neck, tracing the neckline of her dress, applying pressure here and there. Sparks ignited from his fingertips, trembling along her nerve endings right down to her toes. Then his fingers journeyed down her spine, firmly stroking along every single vertebra, and with every one he passed, a shudder chased along her spine deep into her belly, rousing the dark creature inside of her until it screamed with hunger.

At the small of her back, his fingers stopped and his hand splayed wide, drawing her lower body just a bit closer to him, before his hand circled around her waist and settled over her hip, his thumb at the side of her belly, his long fingers pressing into some particularly sensitive places at her lower back.

She heard herself moan loudly, while in her head she senselessly repeated his name. Even in her thoughts she sounded breathless. As did he.

As during the times when their elements met in that unexplained connection, she felt herself expand under his touch, as if she was growing. She could feel every muscle, every tendon, every bone soak in the warmth his attentions gave her, like a sponge soaking in water. And even if she imagined all of this, the feeling of her breasts growing heavy, straining against their bindings, was almost painfully real.  
And it was to her breasts thathis wandering hand was currently headed.  
An alarm bell chimed a frail and forlorn signal in the back of her mind. Something about not letting a boy touch her breasts. As his thumb tentatively grazed the underside of her well-covered breast, the alarm bell drowned in the loud ringing and thundering of blood in her ears. The bindings started to feel like ropes cutting into her soft flesh, her nipples tingled and sent wild pulses of sharp pleasure every which way.

If only she knew what would happen, if only she knew what it was her body hurt for, she would not hesitate to beg him for it right now.

And then, suddenly, he stopped.

His chest heaving with every intake of breath, he turned his head into the direction of the path. Sure enough, a bright ball of fire came their way, along with the shouts of their names that only slowly broke through her awareness.

Thank Spirits that at least Zuko did not haveall his senses turned inward.

"I'm sorry to be a bother, but I was worried about you," Iroh's voice came toward them from a polite distance.

Even more mortified than at the beach, Katara jumped to her feet, glad that the darkness hid most of the evidence of her unseemly conduct.

"Uncle, would you please escort Katara to the campsite?" Zuko said evenly. "I'll come in a minute."

He all but shoved her in Iroh's direction, and she felt a slight sliver of anger that he would take his time calming down in peace, while she had to face Iroh with red cheeks and completely out of breath.

Thankfully, Iroh barely glanced at her when she stumbled toward him, and led the way with her trying to keep up behind him.

Bidding her good night, he buried himself under his blankets and was snoring not five seconds later.

Although she felt far too restless to even contemplate sleep, she dove under her own blanket and rolled to her side. Her undergarments still pinched around her chest, so she sat up again and loosened them somewhat. She would have to find a bit of privacy tomorrow to see what was wrong.

Then she lay down again, trying to soothe her inner turmoil. Why did all of this feel so wrong after the fact, while it had felt like the most natural thing in the world while it was happening? It didn't even exactly feel wrong, but she could not comprehend how she could lose control so completely, how she – always the level-headed, the sensible one – could act on pure impulse, on a craving she could not explain. Not even hunger made her so irrational.

Although it admittedly had a dismal effect on Sokka's intellect.

Maybe it was like Zuko had said, they were each other's greatest weakness.

She was still trembling, when the sound of soft footfalls announced the arrival of her partner in crime.

He settled himself behind her, as always, possessively draping his arm around her waist. His skin felt clammy to the touch and he smelt like seawater. When she concentrated, she could sense the tiny droplets of water still clinging to his hair.

Cooling oneself in the sea seemed a pretty smart idea. Especially since it had calmed him so much, he appeared as if he would fall asleep just as rapidly as his uncle, while her own heart still hadn't gone back to its normal rhythm, a condition seriously aggravated by his closeness.

"Shh," he whispered into her ear. "Go to sleep, I'll hold you."

She was about to tell him that him holding her would probably prevent her from ever falling asleep, when she felt his hand in her hair, soothingly caressing it in even, long strokes. And then, barely audible, a faint humming reached her ears, sounding like a sweet lullaby.

Her eyelids grew heavy and the question she wanted to ask never quite made it to her lips.

………

When she awoke the next morning, Iroh had already made breakfast and Zuko was busy lugging all their gear back into the boat.

She shared breakfast with Iroh, blushed brightly as she said good morning to Zuko, and then claimed she had to refill her waterskin and the little flask at her belt with the water from the spring and set off before anyone could ask questions.

At the crystal pool, she quickly divested herself of her outer garments and her breast bindings and almost fainted at the sight of her breasts. Streaked with angry red welts, they had really gained a bit in size. Shrugging it off as some weird burst of growth, she delved into the pool, splashed around a bit, and then elevated herself on a wave of water up to the spring pool and refilled her flask and water skin.

As she came down again, she examined herself, took a last look at her breasts to find the red streaks gone, and trudged out of the water, refreshed and calm.

The calmness lasted precisely until she felt a certain familiar presence.

"I know you're there, you might as well show yourself."

Leaves rustled and Zuko stepped out from behind the bushes, his gaze fixed on her face.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know you'd… undress to such a degree."

Only then did she remember her state of undress, and with a shriek let go of her waterskin and crossed her arms in front of her.

"You! How dare you? Leave me alone at once!"

He bit his bottom lip, nodded and then turned to walk away.

But then he stilled his movements for a second and without turning, said, "They're even more beautiful than I imagined."

Before a coherent thought had formed in her suddenly empty head, he was gone.

………

As Zuko stormed back the little path to the now half-abandoned campsite, he was exasperatedly asking the universe at large why it kept throwing impossible tasks at him.

Be nice to your sister, Zuko! Make your father proud. Capture the Avatar. Make tea. Do the right thing. Figure out how to deal with one stubborn waterbender.

Really, what was wrong with that girl? Just the night before, she had been there, writhing in his arms, kissing him as if it was the last opportunity in her lifetime, and giving absolutely no indication to stop him from whatever he might have tried, and now he was a villain for looking at her exposed upper body?

He had not even meant to, just as he had told her. He had also not meant to hide. Only after seeing her, he had had to find something to lean against. No red-blooded male could be expected to see those two perfect half-globes of caramel coloured skin with the small, dusky nipples, puckered into tight flesh by the cold water, and not feel a little light-headed.

But had he not been utterly chivalrous the night before, to inspire at least a little trust? Had he not been gentle and patient? True, his patience wasn't so much proof of his iron self-control and concern for her well-being, but rather a purely selfish desire.

He had been intoxicated by the thought that no one before him had touched her like he had. That no one had heard her little breathless moans before, no one who knew how her kisses tasted, no one who knew just how and where to touch her to make her melt into one's arms.

No one but him.

Because this girl was made for him. He dared not speculate which power, which spirit had found it necessary to bond him to her, but if this was a gift, as Iroh seemed to be convinced, then she was made specifically for him and he would unwrap his gift at his leisure.  
He would be the one to learn the secrets of her body, and no one else would ever be able to make her feel like he could.

Mine, he thought with a grim smile. She's mine.

At the back of his head a small voice piped up, reminding him that if she was made for him, that probably meant he was made for her. He silenced it with a shake of his head. The proper order of things wanted it the other way around and so it would be.

Maybe he had even overdone it with the niceties last night. After Katara had left with Iroh, he had taken things in his own hand, literally, but even then his blood had still seethed in his veins. So he'd taken a quick dip in the sea, not stopping to count just how often he had gotten wet in one day, and then meditated for a few minutes.

The calm thus achieved had even sufficed to soothe Katara, who, even that long after she had left, still trembled with arousal and exuded a sensual energy that threatened to toss his newfound serenity right down the cliff. He'd even hummed that stupid lullaby to her which he hadn't even known still floated around somewhere in the deep recesses of his brain.

So maybe it just didn't suit him to be the nice guy.

………

As he came back to the now cleared campsite, Zuko saw Iroh pouring over a map, compass in hand, apparently trying to chart their course. Which reminded him that he hadn't yet informed his uncle about the change of plans.

"Katara will tell us where we need to go," he said. "We'll meet with the Avatar first, leaving you there to teach him, and then she and I will turn back to Tang-Ma-Hal."

Iroh's face was inscrutable as he slowly stroked his beard with his left hand.

"A very smart and efficient plan, nephew," he said. "Has Katara agreed to it?"

A rustling of leaves alerted both of them to the arrival of said girl before Zuko could answer.

Colour high on her cheeks, she stepped forward a little.

"Yes, I've agreed to it," she said, smiling.

Zuko looked away, irritated. He did not need for her to give him credit for something he hadn't done. He'd enough of such manipulations from Azula.

"It was her idea, actually," he said darkly.

"Can I please talk to Zuko for a minute, Uncle Iroh?"

Iroh was already on his feet, map and compass in hand, walking toward the beach. "Don't be too long," he said over his shoulder.

Zuko straightened and fixed his gaze somewhere over the top of her head. He could feel her coming closer, but still refused looking at her. That was, after all, what she wanted.

But then cool fingertips gently touched the back of his hands, which – without him consciously realizing it – he had balled to fists at his sides.

"I'm sorry," she said softly, "For yelling at you before. After what happened last night, it was rather hypocritical and… immature, I suppose."

"You have a right to your privacy," he replied stiffly, but his hands relaxed under her touch.

"All of this is just so confusing, you know," she whispered.

At last, he lowered his gaze to look at her and felt like drowning in a sea of deep blue. Felt like dropping to his knees and pleading with her, begging her. For what, he did not know. There was something he felt she could give him, and if only he knew what, he wouldn't be too proud to ask for it.

He slowly turned his hand and wrapped his fingers around hers.

"Let's go," he said hoarsely. "We shouldn't let Uncle wait."

………

It took mere minutes to determine the best course to take to the little Fire-Nation town where she and Aang had agreed to meet when she was back.

Figuring out how to move the boat was a little trickier. Worried she'd overexert herself, Zuko had insisted on helping her with waterbending, but the bursts of unbridled power she received from him – getting stronger the higher the sun rose in the sky – were rather hard to control. The small boat had almost keeled over at least half a dozen times.  
But after some yelling, blaming each other, learning quite a variety of insults from both Fire-Nation and Water Tribe, they got the hang of it.

The key to a constant, manageable flow of energy was absolutely synchronous movement, as it turned out. Not used to the flowing movements of waterbending, Zuko had needed some time to adapt to those patterns. Katara needed to remember that she had to move slowly enough for him to see and understand the stance.

She was amazed at how little it tired her to move the boat at a very impressive speed. This way, they could outrun even a steam-powered Fire Navy ship.

Iroh, uncharacteristically silent through the whole ordeal, held onto the sides of the boat with a death grip, looking rather green around the gills.

"So, Uncle, you've said that we can only enhance each other's bending powers. How come Katara could carry that flame all the way to the cliff last night?"

Iroh seemed to relax a little, his natural colour slowly coming back to his face.

"I was rather surprised about that, too," he admitted. "Maybe I was wrong. Maybe, with enough training, both of you could learn to master the other element."

Katara couldn't help looking at Zuko, who at the same time looked at her, grinning delightedly. She grinned back.

"But I would still strongly advise you against trying these things too soon and without proper guidance. Learn how to use the additional energy; that should be enough for now. Once you're back from Tang-Ma-Hal, we can see about anything else."

………

They arrived at their destination in the late afternoon, and only then did Katara notice that her arms were growing a little heavy. Zuko looked as if he could use some rest, too.

Since their wanted posters were probably already circulating everywhere, disguises were a necessity.

Katara went in her Fire-Nation clothing, Zuko was a wounded soldier, the left side of his face thickly wrapped in bandages, and Iroh insisted on wearing his Earth-Kingdom clothes he had worn when he was the owner of a tea-shop at Ba-Sing-Se.

Not exactly inconspicuous, but they wouldn't be traipsing right through the town anyway.

Katara led the way to the hideout where she hoped Aang was still staying.

The day before she left, they had agreed that he would only leave if it wasn't safe for them any more. Otherwise, they would stay put, trying to find a sword-master for Sokka and a master firebender for Aang. Neither Sokka nor Toph had been aware of her plans to leave, mainly because there was no way Sokka would have let her go. She had stolen out of the underground dwelling at night, not even daring to give her brother a kiss before she went.

Those thoughts now weighed heavily on her heart with every step she took, until she stopped walking altogether.

"I can't walk further."

Zuko looked puzzled.

"Once Isee them," she tried to explain around the tears clogging her throat, "it'll be impossible to leave. Besides, Sokka probably wouldn't let me."

Iroh nodded, while his nephew's expression darkened.

Katara pointed to a cluster of trees ahead of them.

"Behind those trees is a grass covered mound. There is a door slightly hidden behind a bush One of them should be there, and if it's Toph you should have a warm welcome."

Zuko stepped forward. "We'll wait by the boat until sunset. If you're not back by then, we'll assume you've found them."

Then he took another step and held out his hand. "Good bye, Uncle."

Instead of taking his hand, Iroh enveloped his nephew in a bear hug, something that obviously never ceased to make Zuko uncomfortable. Then the old man turned to her and grasped her right hand between his warm, fleshy hands.

"Take care of him, Katara," he said with a wide smile. "He's not the most uncomplicated of travel companions, but I'm sure you two will manage."

She nodded bravely and instead of replying she threw her arms around the old man.

"Say hello to Aang from me, please?" she sobbed into the fine silk of his green robe. "And to Toph of course and to… to…"

"To Sokka, naturally," Iroh said softly, patting her back.

She stepped back from him after a while, wiping her face on her sleeves.

All three of them turned as if on command and then marched in opposite directions.

"It wasbecause of scenes like these that I wanted to go to Tang-Ma-Hal first," Zuko grumbled beside her, radiating helpless anger that didn't seem directed at her.

"I'm sorry," she sniffled. "I'll miss him, too."

He made a weird, snorting sound but said nothing.

xxx

They descended the winding path that led to the little bay where they had hidden their boat, careful not to trip over the roots of the large trees overshadowing the bay.

Suddenly, Zuko dropped to the ground behind her like a sack of rice. Katara spun around to make a remark regarding having to look where one stepped, when she found herself staring into the bright blue eyes of a very, _very_ pissed-off Water Tribe warrior.

"Where in La's name do you think you're going?"

* * *

tbc 


	7. Exhaustion

**Chapter 7: Exhaustion**

Zuko knew he would be hit by a Water Tribe boomerang just split seconds before it happened. He well remembered the sharp, hissing sound of the weapon shortly before it made contact. Too shortly, unfortunately, for the target to move out of the way.  
Fortunately for him, though, the stupid disguise he wore around his head, itchy thick bandages that aggravated the taut, oversensitive skin of his scar, dampened the impact. Instead of being knocked out cold by the water peasant's boomerang, he was merely stunned for a few seconds, enough to stumble and fall.

When he heard the peasant growling furiously at his sister, Zuko thought it best not to come between two fighting siblings, and played unconscious for a while longer.

"Sokka," Katara said, surprise evident in her breathless gasp.

"You shouldn't be surprised," he said, taking no trouble to conceal his anger. "Did you really think I'd neglect watch duty around a hideout in the midst of enemy territory?"

"Sokka, please listen—"

"No, you listen," the boy yelled, his voice cracking. "You have no idea what I've been through ever since Aang told me you left for the Fire-Nation capital of all places, to seek out the traitor who is responsible for almost killing him!"

"Sokka, you have to understand—"

"No!"

A dangerous note of desperation laced the boy's tone and Zuko thought it best to announce his consciousness. He groaned theatrically and got up.

"Are you all right?" Katara asked with a tiny frown.

He rubbed the back of his head.

"Thanks for worrying about that now," he grumbled, suddenly miffed that she hadn't been concerned for him immediately after he'd been knocked down.

The tip of a wickedly sharp bone knife was suddenly pressed against his breastbone, undoubtedly meaning business.

Zuko slowly lifted his hands and grinned at the blue-eyed boy. "I'm not going to fight you."

The blue eyes narrowed. "Good for me then," the boy growled and without taking his eyes from him, ordered. "Katara, you're going back with me."

"No."

Her voice was so firm, that both Zuko and Sokka turned to her with surprise.

She stood with her arms crossed in front of her chest, featured settled grimly. If it wasn't for the tears pooling in the corners of her eyes, one might have bought the façade of serious intent.

"I am not debating this," Sokka said. "I will not let you slip away again. I've promised father to watch out for you and I intend to keep my promise."

Zuko could feel a dull pain tugging at his heart, probably a mirror of Katara's feelings.

"I can't come with you Sokka," she said quietly, tears now starting to spill over. "I've given a promise, too."

An icy fist of dread tightened around his gut as Zuko realized that Katara wouldn't last much longer under the onslaught of conflicting emotions. She needed to make a decision and he was not at all sure it would be favourable for him.  
He tried to sound sensible and moderately respectful as he once again turned to her brother.

"I swear I'll take care of her, and I'll protect her to the best of my abilities."

Well, that could have sounded a bit more eloquent. Maybe he should've said he'd protect her with his life. It was, after all, the truth.

Sokka snorted. "Your oaths are worthless to me, traitor," he spat. "And, having seen you fight, I've no faith whatsoever in your abilities."

Zuko swallowed the insult, still trying his trying his utmost not to get into an uneven match with him.

"My sister is my responsibility, and it's my decision where and with whom she travels," Sokka said haughtily.

Then he turned to his sister and his features softened.

"We need you, Katara," he said, and Zuko almost screamed with anguish as he saw tears now running freely down her face. "Aang needs you. The world—"

Zuko balled his fist. If the idiot would say 'The world needs you', he'd punch him straight in the face, be that sensible or not.

But it was Katara who interrupted her brother.

"Oh Sokka," she sobbed, throwing her arms around him.

Zuko's shoulders slumped in defeat.

After a few moments of hugging, during which Sokka sent him a self-satisfied smirk, Katara stepped back, eyes blind with tears.

"I am sorry," she whispered.

At the same moment, a huge wave roared up from the water's edge, hitting the unsuspecting boy, and shoved him against the nearest tree. With a few sharp cracks that Zuko remembered all too well, the water solidified into sparkling blue ice.

Without looking back at her brother's stunned face, Katara blindly stumbled to the boat, all but lunging into it.

"Hurry, Zuko," she screamed at him, her voice ragged and desperate.

Shaking himself out of his surprise, he turned and ran to the boat. He barely had his two feet inside, when she already started bending, moving the boat away from the shore as fast as she could.

"Get him off that tree," she whispered over the rush of the water beneath them. "But…"

She didn't need to say the rest. Don't hurt him, of course.

He sent a few short bursts of orange fire across the swiftly growing distance. They were almost out of sight when he finally saw Sokka breaking free of his icy confines, helplessly throwing his boomerang after them.  
After flying a wide curve, the weapon faithfully returned to its master.

………

Zuko couldn't quite remember when he had last been so afraid for his life.

Katara steered completely blind, her shoulders still shaking with bone-deep sobs long after they had cleared the coast of the Fire-Nation. As if it wasn't bad enough to have to endure her anguish, he also had to prevent her from driving them into certain death with her tear-blinded eyes and her uneven bending.

Now, hours after they had left Sokka behind, his arms felt like solid lead and he could barely keep his eyes open.

"There is an island not too far ahead," he yelled at her over the roaring of the wind that had steadily increased over the last half hour. "We should stop there for the night. I think there's a storm coming."

She didn't answer, not that this was surprising. She hadn't spoken to him ever since they'd left.

When the island was near enough to see the outline of an abruptly rising black mountain, made purely of dark volcanic stone with no greenery to adorn its flanks, Zuko had enough.  
Leaving the waterbending stance, he grabbed Katara's wrists from behind. The wave that had carried them fell away from beneath them, and the boat dove a few feet down, hitting the water's surface with a jolting splash.

"Katara, we have to stop. You can barely lift your hands anymore, and neither can I."

She remained silent.

"I promised your brother to look out for you."

In retrospect, that might not have been the smartest thing to say. She ripped her wrists out of his grasp, but didn't start bending again.

"What if they find us?" she asked.

"I doubt that with Iroh explaining things to them, they would go after us."

"Maybe they wouldn't. But Sokka…"

"All right," Zuko said with a weary sigh. "Let's say he did come after us on that flying bison—"

"Appa," she interrupted.

He sighed again.

"Even if he did take Appa, if we stay in a cave and hide the boat it'll be impossible to find us, especially at night."

"We couldn't even make a fire," she said.

He shrugged. "I can keep you warm."

At that she spun around to him, for the first time since their departure.

His whole body froze with terror at how she looked. Her eyes were bloodshot, with dark shadows under them. Salt clung in dirty whitish clumps to her eyebrows and lashes. Her cheeks were hollow, her face sickly pale, her lips almost white, with a few bleeding cracks. Her red-rimmed eyes widened a fraction as she saw him and they stared at each other for a long time. Only when the skies opened above them, spewing slashing cold rain, did they snap out of their exhausted stupor.

"I can't bring us to shore and hold off the rain at the same time," she said.

"Just the shore will have to do then."

They were completely drenched by the time they reached the shore of the island, an inhospitable bit of rocky edges, black and razor sharp. Nowhere to set one's foot without the danger of breaking bones or slashing skin.

With a last effort that almost broke both of them, Katara summoned a mighty wave that carried the boat directly to a relatively level platform a few yards above the ground, that appeared to have something like a cave behind it.

Wet, cold and miserable, they lugged their gear inside the cave only to discover that it wasn't deep enough to shelter them from the violent downpour, whipping almost horizontally directly into the mouth of the cave.

Zuko was glad the rain hid his tears of exhaustion as he heaved the boat to the cave's opening, blocking the wind and the rain.

Then he fell to the ground next to where she lay. If he never had to move again in his life, that would be fine with him.

As his eyes slipped shut, he heard the familiar gurgling and swishing of bended water, and felt his clothes drying around his body. The continuing sounds told him she was probably also drying all their gear.

"Thank you," he murmured, already half asleep.

He might have to sleep on uneven, rocky ground, but at least he wouldn't be wet.

As the watery sounds stopped and were replaced by the chattering of teeth, he blindly groped for the girl lying next to him and pulled her half on top of him. Since he wasn't much help otherwise, he could at least be a warm mattress.

"I hate you," she mumbled into his chest, her limbs growing heavy on top of him.

"I know."

………

When he woke, the slight weight on his chest was gone. The wind still howled outside and rain continued to splatter against the boat, that had miraculously stayed in place for the time being.

Night must have come and gone, judging by the dreary grey light that fell through the cracks around the boat.  
As he tried to heave himself upright, he fell back onto the hard stone beneath him with a pained groan. Every muscle in his body screamed with agony at the effort.

If Katara was only half as bad as he was, they had no chance of getting off this rock any time soon.

Speaking of whom… He rolled to his side and found her sitting on the ground not far from him, her legs drawn to her, arms wrapped around her knees and slightly rocking her upper body back and forth like an inmate of a mental asylum.

"Katara," he croaked.

She turned her head to him, and he was glad to see her looking lucid. But he also saw the pain of complete exhaustion.

"I'm cold… so cold," she whispered.

He had no idea how she could be cold. His own body felt like it was roasting over a slow flame, not quite burning, but ever so slowly drying up. He was thirsty, so very… very thirsty.

Ignoring his body's protest, he crawled to the packs with their provisions and searched for their water supply.  
He drank and drank, the precious liquid running down his throat into his parched body. But the thirst prevailed. He rummaged around for another canteen, but in his desperation could not find it.

"What's with you?" her broken voice sounded behind him.

"I'm thirsty," he answered, hands frantically digging through their belongings.

"You just drank a whole bottle."

"It's so freaking dry in here."

In his seventeen years, he had suffered through enough pain and even exhaustion to be not completely insane over what was happening to him now. So a tiny rational part of his mind told him that drinking water would probably not solve his problem. Still he couldn't quite stop himself. As the elusive bottle still refused to appear, he scooped a handful of water from a nearby puddle, the stale, brackish water almost making him gag.

"Zuko!"

He turned at her forceful calling of her name, for the first time seeing more of her but the hunched form and pained look. She looked even more terrible than she had the night before.

He knew they had overexerted themselves the day before, on account of her stubborn insistence that they put as much water between them and the Avatar as possible. She somehow feared they would come for her and drag her back. And for some reason, she was dead set on fulfilling the promise she had given him. After witnessing her tears the day before, even he wasn't so sure anymore that he still even wanted her to. Not when it cost her so much. Or both of them, as it were.

"I'm cold," she said again.

He crawled over and settled down behind her, cradling her between his thighs, his arms wrapped around her body. Bouts of violent tremors ran through her, making her teeth chatter. Even his dangerously raised body temperature didn't seem to help matters.

As a last resort, he turned his hand palm up in front of her, offering a ball of soft orange fire for whatever warmth she could draw from it. He almost fainted from the exertion.

She held her hands dangerously close to the fire, then flinched back when she had apparently come too close.

"We need to meditate," she whispered.

He hesitated for a moment.  
Then again, they were alone on a lifeless rock, in the midst of a storm-whipped ocean. What was the worst that could happen? If she thought their connection would help, it was worth a try.  
Hadn't Iroh said that they somehow drew from a greater source of energy? They sure could use some of that now.

He tightened his left arm around her and pressed his right cheek against her left before he gave his consent by nodding minutely. He watched fascinated, as a thin band of water wound itself around the globe of fire, broadening and fanning out, forming irregular flecks and puddles. But as irregular they were, they seemed familiar.

"The world," he murmured. "Oceans… water."

His eyes slowly slipped shut as he basked in the refreshing coolness that started to seep into him from everywhere, from every place where skin touched skin. Their faces, their hands, their exposed arms.

At first, the liquid seemed to evaporate inside him like a few drops of rain falling on sun-baked stone. But slowly and surely he felt he was soaking in live-giving liquid, his muscles expanding with new vigour. With every new wave of energy surging through him, exhaustion was cleansed away like caked dirt from polished marble. It clung at first, but in the end stood no chance.

He was soaking, warm water all around him, his insides no longer parched. Although he could still feel Katara's body securely wrapped in his arms and settled between his legs, he began to become aware of other equally lively and real sensations.

Water, always water, warm and relaxing around him, loosening his cramped, hurting muscles. The scent of burning candles and exotic flowers, with just the slightest touch of incense. A fire, burning not too far in the distance.

A bath, he concluded, he was taking a bath. He could actually feel the smooth porcelain of the bathtub in his back, could hear the sound of water sloshing softly around the huge tub he had in his apartments back at the Palace.

And he was not alone in that tub. Soft, wet skin glided against his body as a lithe form moved beside him, nimble hands caressing his chest.

He was suddenly afraid this might be a memory. Had he ever taken a bath with Mai? Well, probably. When he opened his eyes now, would he open them to find Katara nestled in his embrace, or Mai seductively smiling up at him?

He was too afraid to find out. Settling a little deeper into the heavenly warm water, he resolved to be a coward and enjoy the relaxing part of the dream.

"You're not falling asleep in this tub, are you, Firelord Zuko?"

His eyes snapped open at the question, asked in a sultry voice, dark and sensual. Katara's voice. His eyes opened to his dream.  
Like a vision from a particularly erotic fantasy, Katara leaned half over him, sweetly smiling, her hair fanned out in the water around her like a mermaid's. Sinfully naked and overwhelmingly beautiful.  
He studied her face, as intently as he could in the dimly lit room. Only a few candles sent an insufficient glow from a shelf a few feet away, and the only other source of light was the fire in the fireplace, casting flickers of orange over her face.  
She looked different, he thought. Older. Not much, only a few years perhaps.

And then something else filtered through his brain. She'd called him Firelord. In just that same slightly mocking tone in which she always called him Prince.

A strand of wet hair clung to his face, and as he smoothed it back he noticed its length. A quick glance at his shoulders showed long hair floating around him like a cloud of black ink. So he was older, too.

"I'm tired," he said.

Her smile grew wider, knowing and saucy.

"And why would that be, my lord?"

As much as he knew that this woman was Katara, she was nothing like the chaste girl he knew that he still held in his arms at this very moment. And, just for a while, he wanted to forget about her and look at this woman instead, this experienced, sensual creature who slid her supple body over his in such a delicious fashion.

He lifted his hands and ran them from her shoulders over her naked back, down to her lower back and further down still until his hands gripped a well-rounded bottom.  
He groaned as arousal shot through him, hot and demanding. Gripping her behind a little tighter, he drew her against his groin, blatantly pressing the evidence of his arousal into her stomach.

She arched a delicate eyebrow.

"Ready yet again, dear husband?" she purred, a tone that sent a delicious shudder quaking through him. "Astounding."

"I'm always ready for you, beloved wife," he said hoarsely, loving how smoothly the strange endearment flowed off his tongue. This was his dream, after all; he was allowed to say and to do whatever he wanted.

Mischief glimmered silvery in the blue eyes looking at him as she rubbed herself against him, waist circling, water sloshing.

"Stop teasing," he whispered with a happy smile, as she gently kissed his face. "I could be called away to some royal business at any moment."

"As you wish," she mumbled against his skin, just before claiming his mouth in a fervent kiss, lifting her hips just slightly and then sinking down on him.

"Oh, Zuko."

It happened all so suddenly, he could do nothing but hold on to her hips and groan at the simultaneous onslaught of the most delicious of sensations.  
Her round breast, fuller than he remembered, rubbed enticingly over his chest. Her mouth feasted on his, giving and taking, stoking the fire within him to near unbearable heights. To hold such a woman in his arms, a woman so sure of her sexuality, was a treat all by itself. And yet he knew, without any doubt, that what she knew she'd learned only with him. They were partners in a dance they had danced a thousand times, but he could not remember it because for him it had yet to happen, of that he was sure too.  
The water spilled in rhythmic little waves over the rim of the tub as this woman, his wife, his Katara, moved over him, hot wetness surrounding him, massaging him with succulent, divine pressure against which his overexcited body had no chance to hold out long.

He gathered the girl in his arms closer as his dream-woman picked up the pace, as the thundering of blood in his ears drowned the gurgling of the water, as he inexorably neared the point of no return.

"Zuko, are you all right?"

He opened his eyes – again – only to look into two eyes full of worry. The real world came crashing down around him as he saw the little cloud of steam billowing between them and swiftly dispersing.

There would be no going back to the dream now.

But his body still remembered and he was so close, so bloody close, he wanted to weep with frustration.

He nodded tersely, but Katara didn't look convinced.

"Your heart is galloping like a frightened rhino, you're breathing like you're about to suffocate and your pupils are dilated as if you're in shock."

At any other moment, he might have laughed. Right now, he still felt like crying.

"Just give me a moment," he mumbled.

Katara stood and walked to their provision packs, rummaging through them. Although still dazed from his dream, or vision, or whatever it had been, he noticed that she could stand and walk with no difficulty, which had to be an improvement.

"Are you hungry?" she asked, without turning to him.

Yes, for you, he wanted to say, then chided himself for his silliness. It had been a dream, for crying out loud. Surely, the best bloody dream he'd ever had, which really should've been a clue all by itself. Him the Firelord, Katara his wife. Just how unrealistic could it get?

His stomach grumbled loudly, answering the question she had asked.

She came back with some bread, hippo-cow cheese and some dried fruit.

"There's not much left, I hope we can replenish our provisions soon."

He cleared his throat.

"Once we get off this rock, it should take only another two or three days to reach the coast of the southern Earth-Kingdom."

She looked up at him sharply. "Two or three days?"

"There'll be no repeating what we did yesterday," he said grimly. "We almost killed ourselves."

He gave himself extra points for not telling her that it was her who had almost killed them.

"I'm feeling fine again," she said with a shrug.

Not hiding his scrutiny, he looked her slowly up and down. Grudgingly he had to admit that she indeed looked as fresh as dew. No trace left of the deadly exhaustion, nothing to recall the clear physical signs he had seen only a few hours ago.  
Through the vapour of his slowly dissipating frustration, he could tell that he, too, felt rather splendid. This connection truly was a miracle cure.

"I had the strangest vision during our connection," she said quietly.

He stopped mid-chewing and fixed his eyes on her. She suddenly seemed very interested in her own hands which she held in her lap.

"Were you... in a bathtub?" he asked before he could stop himself.

She looked up at him, visibly puzzled.

"No. Were you?"

Try as he might, he could not keep the hot rush of blood from colouring his cheeks.

"Sort of."

"With me?"

His mouth almost fell open, food and everything.

She blushed and looked down at her lap again. "I'm just asking because you were in my dream, too."

"Hmmyeah," he managed, once he had gathered his wits somewhat.

Katara nodded thoughtfully.

"What did we do?" she asked after a moment.

Zuko decided that 'screwing each other's brains out' would probably hurt her maidenly sensibilities.

"Getting wet."

Oblivious to his tone, Katara nodded again.

"In my dream, we were at the Palace, in the Fire-Nation, you know?"

He nodded.

"I stood in an entranceway of sorts, leading to a huge balcony overlooking a gigantic square filled with thousands of people, some of them carrying huge red banners. I've never been to that balcony, I don't even know if such a place exists…"

"It does," he confirmed, now curious about what she had seen. "It's the balcony from which the royal family show themselves to their subjects."

She nodded again, but didn't speak.

"What happened?" he prodded at last.

"You stood there, looking back at me, and then two old women started yelling at the top of their lungs. It was a bit creepy, but I had somehow expected it and felt more excited than frightened."

"What did they say?"

Katara closed her eyes for a moment, then took a deep breath and began.

"Revered healer of the Water Tribe, daughter of Chief Hakoda and Nani; sister of the warrior Sokka, teacher of Avatar Aang, hero of the war, wife of…"

Blushing an even deeper shade of red, she bit her lip and stopped talking.

"Wife of Firelord Zuko," he said softly, continuing for her. "All hail Katara, First Lady of the Fire-Nation."

She looked at him out of wide, shiny blue eyes. "How do you know?"

How did he know, indeed?

If everything went as he had seen in his own dream, it would be how the callers would announce her to his subjects.

It was impossible, though. No Firelord had ever married outside the circle of well respected noble Fire-Nation families. Not to mention that between him and the throne stood seemingly insurmountable obstacles.  
Fire-Nation soldiers, his sister, his father. He never even dared to dream of what would happen after the day of the black sun. He had no hope of even surviving that day one way or the other.

But then there was this vision, so enticingly real. A mutual vision of a happy, shared future. Would it be so wrong to believe that everything would turn out all right?

Just contemplating that question gave him some sense of deep comfort, a feeling of working toward a tangible goal, right and justified. It gave him a bit of the peace of mind he had hoped to get from the meeting with his mother.

Was it a delusion, just like the one he had clung to for three years as he chased after the Avatar, hoping to win back his father's love and his own honour?

Maybe. But it also gave him something he hadn't felt for far too long. It gave him hope.

He smiled a little and tentatively covered her hands with his. "My vision might have involved a bathtub, but I've seen something rather similar."

* * *

tbc 

Please let me know what you think.


	8. Fight

**A/N: **Thanks for the nice and interesting reviews. They are all appreciated and I consider everything you mention while writing the next chapter.

**A/N2:** Gotta harp on the rating again. This is **M.** Seriously. **

* * *

****Chapter 8: Fight**

If Katara had thought that a constantly brooding and ill-humoured prince was hard to live with, she found that a constantly smiling, and sickeningly cheerful prince was a nightmare come alive.

Five minutes ago, he had started humming, and she was afraid whistling wasn't too far off.

Rain was still splattering against the boat at the cave's entrance, but sunny Zuko was busy digging through their gear, reorganizing their backpacks. Just like his uncle. Must run in the family.

"I don't understand why Uncle had those water canteens packed so illogically. No wonder I couldn't find them."

"If you had found them, they'd be empty now," she griped.

Something about the whole episode with the vision had rubbed her the wrong way. The Water Tribe believed visions to be communications from the Spirit World, glimpses into the future. Or serious warnings.  
A shared vision that had her starring as Zuko's wife was something to be taken seriously. Something to be analyzed and talked about.  
Zuko, however, seemed quite content to wave it away with a smile and act as if everything was quite all right.

"What has you in such a foul mood?" he asked.

As she looked at him, she realized with a blush that he must have watched her for a while.

"You."

He lifted both his hands in mock resignation. "Why did I even ask?"

Then he turned and proceeded to sort through their stuff.

"I don't get you, you know," she said, jumping to her feet and starting to pace around the little cave. "Most boys your age would be running for the hills screaming at what we saw in those visions. Especially since it entails marriage to a peasant. So, I don't understand your good mood, _Your Highness_."

"Back to the marriage thing, are we?" he asked over his shoulders.

"Yes, we are," she cried, at her patience's end.

He turned to face her fully and looked at her for a disconcertingly long time. The sugary smile was gone from his face, but he still looked more content than she'd ever seen him.

"Would it help if I told you that it wasn't the part about us being married that makes me so optimistic?"

Her anger was rapidly replaced by confusion.  
True, they hadn't exactly shared all the details of each other's dreams. He had been exceptionally vague in what he told about his, and she had only told him what she thought was the important part of hers. She had failed to mention that after walking up to his side and waving to the crowd, Zuko had taken her into his arms and given her a kiss that she could still taste on her lips. Deep and demanding, but somehow sweet and gentle at the same time. Her insides ached with the loss of it.

"Then which part was it?" she asked.

He sighed. "My being Firelord."

She fought the urge to laugh hysterically. Or cry.

"I see," she said acidly.

Zuko shook his head sadly. "I don't think you do."

She snorted. "Of course I do, I've known you long enough, Zuko. _Your _honour, _your_ throne, I know what's important to you."

Fury suddenly glittered like fiery daggers in his golden eyes as he jumped to his feet.

"You know nothing of me, little girl," he said in a dangerously low tone. "You're the friend of the very person who brings hope to the world. I bet you're all convinced that everything will be just fine in the end. That the good will win and the bad perish, isn't that so?"

She stared in shock at the sudden outburst, too surprised to even nod.

"So where does that leave me? I'm on the wrong side, regardless of where I pledge my allegiance. I'm always a traitor, always a liability, always the odd one out. So, yes, the mere thought that I will find the place where I belong is a happy one for me. As is the idea that my father will be defeated and peace will be brought to the world."

She gasped at the ferocity in his words. And at the truth, the deeper meaning she had not seen before.  
But he was not done yet.

"If you want to continue to fret about being destined to be my wife, feel free. Because I think it's you who is scared witless by what we've seen. But rest assured that I would rather die without an heir than marry a woman who is as repelled by the very idea as you are."

Then, as abruptly as his outburst had started, he turned again and sat down, ripping at the various strips and packages with jerky movements.

A wrenching pain laced through her soul as she watched him. With undeniable clarity she knew that she had not just hurt him, but that she had taken away something rare, something he treasured more than she could ever understand. Hope, and the feeling of belonging, of being accepted and wanted.  
For all her conviction that he was so full of self-importance and conceit about his title, it was she who brought it up all the time, threw it in his face whenever she needed to make a point. Lately, it was she, not he, who used his station to draw a line between them.

She took a few tentative steps and then knelt down by his side. He glared at a bundle of clothes as if they were his personal enemies.

"I'm sorry," she said.

He didn't react in any way.

She leaned toward him and pressed a light kiss on his scar.

"I'm sorry," she whispered against his skin.

A little muscle twitched in his cheek, but that was all. She pressed another kiss to the sensitive skin of his scar, inhaling deeply as the scent of his skin filled her nostrils, making her a little light-headed. He smelled like tea and wood smoke, like clean skin and soap.

"I'm sorry."

His mouth was hard, compressed into a tight line as she brushed her lips against it.

Just as she closed the distance for another kiss, he drew back from her.

"Don't," he said firmly, but she couldn't hear anger in his voice anymore.

"Zuko, I am truly sorry. I think you're handling this much better than I do. I didn't mean to hurt you."

He gave her a crooked smile.

"It's all right, I'll remind you of this next time I do something to infuriate you."

The look in his eyes had softened and she hoped it meant she was forgiven.

"Look, sunshine."

She knew she was staring at him dumbly, trying to figure out if he had a new nickname for her, when she saw him pointing at the cracks around the boat.  
The rain had stopped and rays of bright sunlight fell into the cave, painting irregular patches of light on the dark stone.

Zuko stood and walked to the boat, while she remained kneeling for a while, asking herself why it hurt so much that he didn't want to kiss her anymore.

With a mighty heave from two strong arms, Zuko had turned the boat away from the cave's entrance. He was about to lower it to the ground, when a gust of wind tugged at it and threatened to wrench it out of Zuko's hands. What with the sharp rocks everywhere, that could very well mean the destruction of their only means of leaving this island. With astounding strength, he held on to the side of the boat, but just as the wind stilled, the sound of ripping silk suddenly made him freeze in mid-movement.

"Please tell me that wasn't my pants."

She couldn't help the laughter bubbling up in her, but she managed to assure him between giggles that he was still decently covered.

Then she turned to retrieve the backpacks and bring them outside, but stood rooted to the spot at the sight that greeted her.  
Zuko had shed most of his clothes and stood in the bright sunlight, bare-chested and looking stunned at the ruined piece of clothing that was his undertunic. Or rather a black, sleeveless silken shirt with gold trimmings.

"That was my favourite," he said. "I have no idea why it ripped."

Without looking away from his chest, she said, "I do."

It took her a while to catch his questioning gaze, because she was still too busy staring.

"Your shoulders and arms," she said, a little out of breath for some reason. "They've… grown."

Her words were a bit of an understatement, or at least incorrect. His arms hadn't grown exactly, they weren't longer, but thicker. Strong muscles bunching beneath his pale skin, speaking of untamed strength.  
She had seen him without a shirt before and had studied his physique rather closely on those occasions. There was no doubt that there was a noticeable change.

He lifted his arms and looked at them with self-satisfied delight. "If I had known waterbending was so good for my constitution, I would've tried it a lot sooner," he said with a grin.

"I don't think it's from waterbending," she said and took the ruined tunic from him. "Do you want me to mend this?"

"I'd be grateful if you would. Call me a spoilt prince, but I rather like the feeling of silk on my skin."

His careless words made her blush. Well, not so much the words, but the unbidden thought of what else he might like on his skin. If he would like it if she let her hands glide over the smooth, flat planes of his chest. If he would like her to kiss him there.

She shook her head to rid herself of those strange wonderings.

While he continued to admire himself, and then switched to practise fighting stances and what looked like firebending moves, she went hunting for her sewing materials and tried to assess the damage done to the delicate piece of clothing in her hands. She would have to sew an additional patch of fabric into the place where the material had ripped, to allow for the additional breadth of his shoulders.  
Luckily she found a bit of black linen that would have to do and started sewing. Meanwhile, Zuko had gone back to admiring himself. It was disconcerting how much he suddenly reminded her of Sokka.  
Men! Vain peacocks, the lot of them.

"You might want to go to the shore and look at your reflection in the water. Sokka does that all the time," she said, her voice catching at her brother's name.

He glowered at her for a moment but then his expression softened. He walked over to her and sat down cross legged.

"You miss him?"

She nodded, tears clogging her throat.

"I envy what you two have," he said wistfully. "Even when we were kids, half the time I just wanted to kill my sister, and the other half I wished I was an only child."

She chuckled and wiped away a stray tear with the back of her hand.

"It's not like he doesn't drive me mad most of the time," she said. "He's bossy and overbearing and thinks he's always right. He's vain and arrogant, thinks he's funny and utterly irresistible."

One corner of his mouth turned upward. "Still talking about Sokka?"

She shot him a look.

"But you love him anyway, do you?"

"Yes."

"Because he's your brother?"

"Because he _is_ funny, and because he's warm and caring, and he would protect me whatever the cost. He's honest and brave and, believe it or not, he can be astoundingly smart."

They were silent for a while, until Zuko started to speak again.

"He was all right, you know. After I thawed him off that tree, he was cursing and stamping his feet and throwing his boomerang after us." With a chuckle, he added. "Almost knocked me out again."

She smiled with relief. For some reason, she had not dared to wonder if she or Zuko had hurt him in any way. Sounded like he truly was all right.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"Before," he began haltingly after a while. "You said you don't think my… growing stronger has something to do with waterbending. Why did you say that?"

She bent closer over her finished work to hide her face.

"Since we've discovered this connection, I've grown, too. In certain… areas."

He was silent.

After a few moments, she dared to look at him, and, sure enough, his gaze was glued to the area she had referred to.

"So I've noticed," he said, an odd tremble in his voice.

Her cheeks were burning.

"Honestly," she cried exasperated to hide her embarrassment. "What is it with boys and breasts? Sokka is just the same, he'd sooner notice the size of a girl's breasts than the colour of her eyes."

Zuko shrugged, his eyes not wavering from his current point of interest.

"Your eyes are the clearest and deepest blue I've ever seen, like the sky on a particularly beautiful summer day."

She opened her mouth to thank him for the sweet compliment, but he continued heedlessly.

"As for those…" he said, indicating her breast with a nod of his head. "It's something we don't have. Men are all sharp angles and flat, hard planes. Girls are curvy and round and…" – he sighed, a sound that sent a shiver down her back – "… soft."

She swallowed the remark that she had no objections to angles and flat planes. Not when they looked as if they would feel like polished marble under her hands, not if she knew they would be warm and smooth on the surface, and firm just beneath. Not if she suspected they would taste of tea and wood-smoke.  
She also had no objection to hard, not even to the hot hard length she had felt pressing into her backside during their meditation a while ago. She had felt it before, almost every time they were close, and, although part of her insisted on being alarmed about it, a much bigger part of her was burning with curiosity and something she could only describe as mindless need.

He lifted his gaze to her and she almost gasped at the look in his eyes. His eyes narrowed to slits, the golden irises sparkled like that of a predator, full of a feral hunger that frightened her.

"We have to meditate," he growled. "Right now."

"Why?" she asked, resisting the urge to crawl backwards and run.

"There's something I need to bring to an end or I'll go insane."

He grabbed her right hand with his left and laced his fingers through hers, almost crushing bones with his bruising grip.

"Whatever happens," he said in a low, threatening voice, "don't break the contact. Not even if my head falls off my shoulders, understand?"

She had barely time to nod before a white hot flame roared to life, almost singeing her eyebrows with its heat. Her summoning a shield of water was defensive reflex, and it took her a few moments to adjust to the scorching heat, that continued to vaporize the water she pressed against it.

She had a feeling that this time, one of them would get hurt. And the dread in the pit of her stomach told her that it would be her.

………

Zuko almost shouted with relief as cool started to surround his body. He had been seconds away from bursting into flames. He was not supposed to endure the liquid heat scorching his veins, he was not made to be deprived of the pleasure he craved so much he felt he'd die if it was denied him a second longer.

Cool silk whispered around his skin, the scent of flowers and incense filled his nostrils.

He was back, finally.

As he opened his eyes, he found himself in his bed, his legs and hips covered with soft silk, his chest with a wealth of long, chestnut hair, soft and silky as well.

"Katara."

"Mmmhm," she mumbled sleepily.

"Wake up, please."

She shifted a bit against him but did not move.  
Completely out of patience, he turned and tackled her beneath himself, groaning at the feeling of her naked body pressed against his.  
She looked up at him out of startled, sleep-clouded eyes. She was the woman from his first dream, sensual and knowing. She would understand. She had to.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

Instead of answering, he crushed his mouth down on hers, plundering its sweet depths with thrusting, greedy strokes. When he felt her pushing at his shoulders, he drew back, gulping deep, painful breaths.

"What's wrong, darling?" she asked, her mouth curling into a teasing smile. "Where's the fire?"

"Need you," he panted. "Now."

Pure fire thundered through his veins as he kissed her again, groping his way down her body with one hand, the other buried in her hair, holding her against him. It took him a while to notice her pushing at his shoulders again.

"It's the middle of the night, Zuko. You don't need to rush, no one's going to interrupt."

"Doesn't matter," he said on an exhale before bearing down on her again. "Can't wait… need you," he mumbled breathlessly between kisses while he wedged his knee between her thighs.

Only dimly did he hear her pained gasp through the blood pounding in his ears, as he pushed inside of her. He wanted to tell her that it wouldn't be long, but he had no breath to speak. Just seconds later, white hot pain ripped down his spine, right into his groin. Agonizing pleasure exploded through him, shattering him into a million pieces. The soft, warm woman beneath him vanished from his embrace as he floated upwards, higher and higher until everything beneath him was covered by fluffy white clouds. A black sky surrounded him, sparkling with a myriad of stars and beneath his feet, a silvery path lead toward an invisible destination. He wanted to walk toward it, but he knew he could not do so alone.

"Katara?" he asked into the black night.

"Zuko."

Her voice was frail and distant, almost inaudible. He turned but could not see her.

"You've left me behind," she whispered. "I'm alone."

The clouds parted then, and he looked from above down on a little island of black rock, saw her sitting there, one hand clasped to his, fighting a losing battle against a growing white flame, tears on her face.  
The silver path vanished, and he felt himself fall. Faster and faster, until he crashed back into his body, tumbling back with the force of it.

The following darkness had no stars.

………

"Zuko? Zuko wake up!"

He was glad to hear her voice, but loath to open his eyes. He was spent, his blood sluggishly crawling through his veins, his heart beating preternaturally slow. Bone deep, leaden satisfaction held him down as if he weighted twice his usual weight.

"That," he said slowly, "was stupid."

"I agree," she whispered somewhere to his left.

"You should've stopped me," he said, his tongue barely cooperating while he tried to open at least one eye.

"I tried."

His heart twisted painfully.

"Did I hurt you?"

The silence beside him was deafening.

He finally opened his eyes and rolled to his side. She was lying on her back, a glove of glowing water surrounding her right hand.  
A merciless iron fist hit him square in the stomach.

"I'm sorry," he said tonelessly, "So… so sorry."

"Why?"

He rolled back, gazing at the sky.

"I lost control."

"Why?"

How could he hope to explain that to her without being crude or sounding like the insensible, selfish jerk he felt he was?

"Zuko, why? You have to tell me. You hurt me, you were angry at me. And… there were things happening to you that frightened me. You were in pain, you had what looked like a seizure and then you passed out. If there is an explanation, I need to hear it and I need to hear it right now or I swear our ways part right here."

With a sigh he had to admit she was right. If they wanted to get through this, honesty was probably the only option.

"I want you, Katara", he said at last. "I want to kiss you and touch you – all of you – and I want to do things to you that will frighten the living daylights out of you if I were to try to explain them. I can't do any of this, because I won't defile you, but sometimes I want that so badly it hurts. It's killing me."

She stood up, facing him and glaring at him with a piercing, ice-blue stare.

"And why exactly did you think you needed to keep it a secret until it was almost killing _me_?"

He scrambled upright, too. It suddenly didn't seem like a good idea to lie prone at the feet of an angry woman.

"I wasn't exactly keeping it a secret."

She took a deep breath, her eyes narrowing at him.

"Well, forgive my ignorance but I didn't know any of this. Just a while ago you didn't even want me to kiss you anymore."

"Because that's how it starts!" he yelled, unable to keep the helpless anger in check. "And I don't know if I could stop, if I would even want to. Do you think you can protect your virtue against me? Do you think you can fight me?"

"I've proven often enough that I can," she gave back haughtily.

He snorted, clouds of fire escaping his nostrils.

"You just proved that you can't!"

The stinging slap of a water whip landed on his cheek.

"You arrogant ass!" she yelled. "I endured all that because you begged me to, although it hurt like crazy, and although I could feel it hurt you too."

They were facing each other now like two combatants in an Agni Kai, eyes narrowed to slits, arms braced for combat.

It was Katara who threw the first punch. No bending, just plain old hand-to-hand combat. She was fast and often just sidestepped his forceful assaults. There was no mistaking that she had trained with an airbender. He'd recognize the Avatar's fighting style anywhere. Evade and let your opponent waste his strength, make him his own enemy. Well, he knew how to counter those tactics.

In the back of his mind, he wondered what Iroh might have said if he saw them fight. Surely he would have wanted them to stop.

But he didn't want to stop. Barely anything felt as good as fighting with her. With her, the fight always was the triumph. Everything she was, every bit of her strength, of her intelligence, her iron will shone brilliantly and unblemished in the way she fought.  
He was sure she would make love like that as well. Giving as good as she got. No surrender and no mercy. She would give all of herself, just like she did while fighting.

Resentment, fear and betrayal fuelled every one of their movements. And hurt. His at her words, her at his actions.

Sweat dripped down their faces while the sun was setting in a spectacle of red and orange at the horizon. They circled each other, calculating the next move.

The moon rose pale and half-full in the darkening sky.

He surged toward her, a last desperate attempt to win as the day was waning. She sidestepped again, tripping him in the process. His feet vanished from under him, but he managed to grab her arm. The plan was to bring her down with him and tackle her to the ground.  
But she used the inertia of the fall to turn the tables again, pinning his wrists to the ground while straddling him.

"I win," she panted.

"You can't hold me down," he replied, just as out of breath. "I'm stronger."

"You're exhausted."

"So are you."

"The moon is rising."

He couldn't argue against that. Truth be told, he just wanted to stay like that, with her poised above him, her breasts pressing into his chest with every panting breath she took, face close enough to kiss and her shapely behind snugly settled against his nether regions. Speaking of which, there was one part of him that could apparently rise with the moon.  
He could see on her face that she felt it. She wriggled a little and he groaned.

"Does it hurt?"

"Not yet."

She smiled down at him, the wicked glittering in her eyes reminding him of the woman in his visions.

"You are an idiot, Prince Zuko, if you think I don't want to kiss and touch just as much as you do. As for the rest, I guess I'll have to judge for myself if it does frighten me."

"But—"

"You can leave it to me to worry about my virtue. I think I just proved I can kick your ass any time I want."

He barely had time to smile before her lips found his.

* * *

tbc 

As always, I'm curious about your opinion.


	9. Forgiveness

**Chapter 9: Forgiveness**

Zuko hadn't planned on staying on that lifeless island for longer than one night. Of course, in the morning they had been exhausted and it had still been raining, but as soon as the sun had come out they should've departed.  
At the very latest, they should have gotten off that rock as the moon rose, lending additional power to Katara's bending abilities.

But here he was, flat on his back on an uncomfortable rock, kissing her as if his life depended on it. Not that he was complaining.

She tasted of sweat and blood. His or hers, he didn't know. Probably both. They had spared each other no quarter in their fight, and the sharp rocks around them had scraped and bruised both of them in various places.  
Katara would have some healing to do after they stopped kissing. Whenever that might be.

This kiss, if one could call it that, was wildly different from the two others they had shared before. In his arms he held not a timid maiden, but a girl who was still furious at him, sick to death of being coddled and protected and treated like a child, when she had lived through more hardship than some old men had in their entire long lives.  
They were very similar in that respect. Ripped from childhood much too soon and burdened with responsibilities that people twice their age would moan under.

_You have to accept that she's your equal_, Uncle Iroh had said. Not until just now had he even understood what that meant.

It was not just that she could kick his ass, not just that he needed to learn to compromise and respect her opinions. It also meant he needed to let her make decisions where the most intimate, most personal questions were concerned. And her innocence, the very reason he felt he needed to keep things from her, was merely a different perspective, a counterpoint to his jaded cynicism. It didn't mean she was too dumb to understand what was going on. His trying to keep her from pain by shielding her from the truth had resulted in him hurting her.  
This was one thing he swore he'd never do again.

Especially since kissing the real life Katara, sweat and blood and sharp rocks notwithstanding, was still a damn sight better than making love in his visions. True, the visions had been more real than any other dream he'd ever had, but still they paled in comparison to what was happening right here.

Tiny moans came from somewhere in her throat as her tongue battled with his, fighting for dominance. Her hands roamed tirelessly over his arms and shoulders, touching, kneading, raking fingernails across the skin that registered every touch. Possessing him.  
He wanted her to touch more of him, wanted to grab those slender, powerful hands and drag them over every inch of his body. He needed her to know him, everything, inside and out. Skin, flesh, and the bone beneath. He wanted her to tear him apart and uncover what lay beneath the surface. Wanted her to know him like no one else did, good and bad, nice and ugly. He wanted her to still want him then, when she had seen everything. To kiss him still as she was doing now. Without reserve, with joyful, innocent abandon.

Her frantic kisses moved away from his mouth then, up to the maimed part of his face. The tip of her tongue traced the welts, the ugly, uneven ridges. Not with pity, not to console him, but because she wanted to.  
Mai had always avoided kissing that side of his face.

The hungry mouth and teasing tongue went farther, to his ear, circling the misshaped, burnt whorls. He gasped as the tip of her tongue ventured inside, sending pinpricks of sharp pleasure rioting over his skin.  
His hands were travelling up and down her back, finding an exciting number of ways to make her moan and arch into his exploring touch. He seemed to know instinctively where and how to touch to please her. A few times his thumbs had brushed the sides of her breasts, just barely lingering, testing their increased size and weight, before drawing back again. He knew she craved more of that, knew it from how she pushed herself against him every time. But it seemed important to let her set the pace; if she wanted more, she had to make it clear. At the moment, she seemed to be truly enjoying things as they were.

She feathered a couple of open-mouthed kisses down the side of his neck and he muffled a groan against her shoulder. Then the tip of her tongue darted out again, tracing a line somewhere on his neck and pushing against a patch of especially sensitive skin. Every whisper of soft lips against it, every touch of her tongue sent another shudder along his body, pushing him so far he could only hope she would know how to handle the fire she had lit.

A shout was ripped from his chest when a sudden delicious pain overwhelmed his senses. Sharp teeth sank into the vulnerable skin, holding it in a tight grasp, while a hot mouth sucked fiercely, drawing blood.  
His erection throbbed eagerly at the sublime torment, demanding attention. Stopping this madness would be one of the hardest things he ever had to do.

………

"Katara, we have to stop."

She couldn't believe her own ears.

"Why?" she asked against the skin of his neck, where a pulsing hot bruise bloomed just beneath her lips. She loved the idea that she had marked him. She almost regretted now that she had erased his mark. They were bound together in such an unworldly way, they might as well have an outward sign to show for it.

She had asked a simple question, but he apparently found it hard to answer. Her tongue exploring his mouth might have something to do with that.

When she came up for air, he tried again.

"Please, stop."

"Wasn't this what you wanted?" she murmured close to his lips, running her hands over his shoulders for the thousandth time. She had been right about how he would feel under her hands, and then again, she had not. It was better than she could have imagined, because he was alive under her, blood rushing through his veins so close to the surface that the water contained in his blood whispered to her abilities, made her aware of his temperature, the beat of his heart, the frantic pressure in the dilated vessels. She could feel his need, so in tune with her own.

This man, bursting with physical strength, frightening in his power and his abilities, was writhing under her in helpless pleasure, moaning and panting. She was drunk on a feeling of power, delighting in the newfound knowledge that this was a game with two players; that she needn't be passive and wait with bated breath for what would happen. She could make things happen, take what her body seemed to have an instinctive knowledge of, even if her mind had not.

As always when they touched each other in this exciting, blood-heating way, she felt this undeniable surge of energy coursing through her, making her feel invincible.

"Yes," he said with a soft moan. "But this would be so much better in a bed."

His words gave her pause.

"A bed?"

He chuckled low in his throat.

"A bed," he said then. "You know, soft mattress, lots of pillows, silk sheets, that sort of thing."

She swatted his chest. "I know what a bed is; I just don't know where you think we'll find one on such short notice."

"Southern Earth Kingdom," he said lightly, but she knew what he truly wanted to say. We have to leave this island, we have to be on our way.

"You are the one claiming he'd die without this," she said, not quite able to keep the pout out of her voice.

He sighed over-dramatically. "I'm a seventeen year old male; we tend to exaggerate where our needs are concerned."

She drew herself upright, grinding her bottom a little into the demanding hardness under her. He groaned and his eyes slipped shut.

"This part of you seems to disagree," she said victoriously.

Another troubled sigh passed his lips.

"This part of me always exaggerates."

She looked down at him, trying to come to terms with the sudden turn of events.

"And since we're discussing my body parts," he went on when she didn't move, "My backside really doesn't appreciate the thousand sharp stones poking holes into it."

She couldn't suppress a giggle at his words. Although she was sure that his sudden concern for comfort was as much for her sake as for his own, she let it slide this time.

"You're right," she said, getting up. "My knees are hurting, too."

She gave him a hand to help him heave himself upright, and when he came to his feet he once again stood much too close for her to think rational thoughts.

"Want me to heal all those cuts?" she whispered, her only concern being that she would have an excuse to touch him again.

"And have your hands all over my body?" he asked huskily. "Thanks, Katara, but there's only so much willpower I can muster tonight."

He walked away from her, dressed himself and then started to load their gear into the boat.

"Besides," he continued, "you'll need your strength for bending."

She chuckled. "Don't worry about energy," she said. "What with the moon at full zenith and what just happened, I'm bursting with it."

He turned to her, raising an eyebrow. "Kissing makes you stronger?" he asked incredulously.

"Yes."

"That's curious."

"Why?"

"With me, that only happens during meditation."

They contemplated that bit of information silently while readying the boat, but, when Katara started to get ready to summon a wave big enough to carry them down to the sea, Zuko stopped her.

"Wait, Katara, there's something I wanted to try."

"Do _you_ want to try to get the boat down there?"

"Well, no, but I do have an idea how we might get it to go faster while expending less energy."

That brought him her attention. Her body remembered the painful exhaustion only too well.

"There is a firebending technique which Azula uses, that employs a backward directed fire-blast to propel you forward."

Katara nodded. She had seen Azula do that in Ba-Sing-Se.

"Now, I was thinking that, if you used the same movement as if you were firebending, only you formed a jet of water just below the surface, moving backward, the counterthrust should move the boat forward."

She mulled the idea over for a while. "Sounds doable. But how does it save energy?"

"You don't have to constantly maintain a wave that carries us. Surely that would be easier? Besides, I will feel more comfortable with a firebending stance and can help you better. We may find a way that suits both of us."

She smiled.

"What's the worst that could happen?"

He grinned broadly. "We could keel over and drown."

"Sounds like fun. Let's try it."

This time, they worked together like a well-oiled machine.

Katara found that she could move the boat much easier with that technique and it was even easier to steer. When Zuko started lending an increasing amount of power to the jet of water, the boat shot forward like an arrow from the bow.

At times it seemed as if they were flying, the bow of the boat skipping over the waves with hard little jolts. They left a bow-wave like one of the mighty Fire-Navy steamships.

They both whooped with laughter and excitement at the exhilarating ride. They had to stop a few times just to catch their breaths from too much laughing and shouting.

"This is even more fun than penguin-sledding," Katara said during one of those stops.

"Penguin-sledding?" Zuko asked, looking up from his map and compass which he used to check their course.

"It's a kids' game at the South Pole," she explained, still giggling. "Grab a penguin, sit on it and then down it goes over snow and ice. It's almost as fast as our little water-powered boat here."

He raised his good eyebrow.

"So this is what you and Sokka did for fun?"

She shook her head, laughing at the idea. "Oh no! It's much too silly for Sokka's taste. Last time I did it with Aang. You might not believe it, but the first words out of his mouth after we found him, the first words after one hundred years of sleep, were 'Do you want to go penguin-sledding with me?'"

She smiled at the memory.

Zuko looked up, comically quirking his mouth. "Not what I would've asked."

She leaned back while Zuko still studied the map.

"So what did you do for fun as a kid?"

He looked up again, giving her a pained smile.

"There's not much fun in growing up as a prince, believe it or not," he said, a streak of sadness colouring his words, but only slightly. "I had to learn to bend and to fight, had tutors for all kinds of things, from etiquette to military strategies. I even had to learn to play the Sunghi-Horn. To make matters worse, I had to spend time with my sister."

She made a face. "Sounds awful."

He shrugged.

"It wasn't so bad while my mother was still there. And then I had Uncle Iroh."

"Did you have a pet?"

"I… well, never mind."

She leaned forward. "Now I'm curious."

"There's a little pond in the palace garden," he said, keeping his eyes on the map. "There was this family of turtle-ducks. They're sort of… cute. I always fed them, even after mother was gone."

Something incredibly soft and sad stole into his tone every time he mentioned his mother. And after what they've been through the last few days, she thought she might have a right to broach the subject.

"You love her very much, do you?" she asked tentatively. "This is not just about knowing that you're doing the right thing, isn't it? You love her and you miss her."

He carefully refolded the map.

"Is that so hard to understand?"

The desolation in his tone struck a chord in her own soul, unearthed her own pain, her own devastating loss.

"No," she said, fighting back tears. "But you never admitted it before."

He had kept his head down for the last few minutes, but now he lifted it and looked directly at her. She gasped at the sadness that mirrored hers. For all he always claimed to be, right now he was just a boy, grieving for his mother. A feeling she could understand like no one else.  
She scooted closer to him and slipped her hand into his. He squeezed it as if thanking her.

"I still see her sometimes in my dreams," he said. "She talks to me and I am so very happy she's there. And then I wake up and…"

His voice broke, and he turned away from her, although his hand gripped hers even tighter now.

"I know," she said, letting her own tears fall without fighting them. "It's like losing her all over again."

She saw his shoulders tremble, could feel the hot moisture pouring over his face, but she allowed him to save his dignity by keeping his face turned away from her.

"I have to find her, Katara," he whispered urgently when he seemed to have calmed down a bit. "I have to."

She smiled, wiping away the rest of her tears.

"I guess Sokka was right about you. You never give up."

He turned after swiping the sleeve of his overtunic over his face.

"He said that?"

"At the North Pole, when we were looking for Aang after you'd kidnapped him, I was so worried you might have gotten lost in the storm. But Sokka said that, if he knew one thing about you, it was that you never give up."

Zuko smiled a little wavering smile.

"Your brother is really starting to grow on me."

"Tell him that when you see him next time, and he wants to kill you."

Now he grinned.

"Well, I feel for him. Protecting you is quite a demanding task."

She threatened him with a water whip, but he deftly moved out of the way, laughing again.

"All right, let's get this boat moving again, shall we?"

………

At daybreak, they stumbled onto a sandy beach not far from a little Earth-Kingdom town. They were tired but not exhausted. After they lugged the boat onto the beach, they sat down on the sand and looked at the sea. At the horizon, the sun rose in a lavish display of colour and light. Fishing boats, not more than black shapes on the coloured water, sailed out to the sea, seagulls following them in screeching flocks.

Zuko had always loved watching the sun rise and set, had even invited Mai along one time. But when he learned that she found it corny and boring, he felt foolish.

"Beautiful," Katara whispered next to him.

"Peaceful," he said.

They watched in companionable silence until the full, orange globe had risen over the horizon.

"What do we do now?" Katara asked.

"I've brought Earth-Kingdom clothes for both of us. Then we'll walk into that village over there, see if we can purchase two ostrich-horses and be on our way to Tang-Ma-Hal. A few miles inland is a bigger settlement; there we'll probably find food and shelter for the night."

"Do we have money?"

"Enough, as long as they take Fire-Nation currency, which I'm sure they do."

"I guess we'll use fake names."

"Jang Kiara and Jang Li."

She took a deep breath. "Siblings or married?"

He turned to her, eyebrow raised. "Do you think we look like siblings?"

To be perfectly honest, he had thought of this only just now, but found the idea of travelling with Katara as his wife rather brilliant.

He found her looking at him critically.

"No," she said, grinning. "The colour of our hair gives it away."

He couldn't believe how she could make him laugh with the weirdest of remarks. He had laughed more during the last few days than he had in years. He had also cried, something he had vowed years ago never to do again. As if she had pried open the lid he had closed so tightly over his feelings, and now they poured out of him whenever she asked a question.

"Of course."

She still fixed him with a serious stare.

"And Zuko, we do look suspicious with all those cuts and scratches; you have to let me do something about them."

He still didn't like the idea, but he knew she was right. Besides, if his needs should get the better of him, the beach was at least a little better suited for what would happen than the rocky island had been.

"All right, but we have to meditate first. We won't get any sleep until tonight, and healing will drain your strength further."

She flinched next to him. Their fight last night might have dealt with her anger at him, but that didn't mean she wasn't still scared of getting hurt again.

"Katara, I promise… I swear I won't hurt you again."

The tide came in a bit higher now, almost licking at their feet. They would have to get moving soon.

"You've said you trust me."

"I do," she said. "All right, let's get this over with."

He doubted this was the right frame of mind to do this, but resolved to keep his mouth shut.

As he wrapped a thin, non-threatening tendril of orange fire around the floating sphere Katara had created between her hands, he felt her emotions as clearly as if they were his own.

Where he usually felt invited and accepted, something that always triggered the arousal he felt during meditation, this time he felt like standing in front of a wall, simmering anger and distrust keeping him from truly connecting with her. And although he fought it he couldn't keep his eyes from slipping shut, couldn't stay away from the call of his vision.

He stood in front of a closed door. Massive blood-oak, ornamented with carvings of such rich detail, one could have studied them for hours. Fittings and the overly large door handles were of pure gold. The bedchamber of the First Lady of the Fire-Nation.

Without trying it, he knew the door would be locked. He turned and walked along the corridor that led outside, into the Palace garden. He held himself regally upright, feeling the weight of the crown on his head, and strode with measured steps, aware of the long flowing robes one could easily trip over.

He found her in the garden, sitting on a little stone-bench, feeding the turtle-ducks. Instinctively he knew that she could feel his presence, but she didn't turn to him, didn't smile when she rose to greet him as he stood in front of her. The feeling of anger surrounding him was the strongest here.

She bowed to him deeply and deferentially.

"My lord husband."

Her cold disapproval felt like physical pain.

"Katara," he said.

At the intimate address, her eyes quickly flickered to his, but then she averted them again.

"You know I am sorry," he tried.

"I've heard and accepted your apology, my lord."

His anger rose at her dismissive tone.

"Yet you have not forgiven me."

She met his gaze fully then, and he almost stumbled backward at the hurt in her eyes.

"You used me like the lowest of whores, my lord. You demeaned and humiliated me, yet you choose to be angry at my not forgiving you as promptly as you would like."

She held his gaze, unwept tears shimmering in her eyes. Suddenly, he understood. A lesson almost forgotten sounded in his head. Iroh's voice.

_Pride is not the object of shame, but its source. True humility is the only antidote to shame._

He had done something shameful, and just apologizing for the hurt he'd caused would do nothing to restore her faith in him, to restore the sense of her own self that he had so severely wounded. As long as his pride kept him from acknowledging his shame, there would be no forgiveness.

Slowly, he sank to his knees in front of her, bowing deeply, his hands forming the formal deferential gesture used in the Fire-Nation. If someone saw him thus, they could rightfully demand that he should forfeit his throne.

The Firelord bowed to no one.

"I humbly beg your forgiveness, my lady. I have shamed both of us and I vow I will not do so ever again."

She gasped.

"Zuko, what are you doing? Get up!"

"Will you consider my request?" he asked, still bowing.

"Get up immediately, you stupid man, or you'll not see me in your bed for another two weeks."

He winced, but thought he had better do what she said.

The hurt had vanished from her face, but now she looked furious.

"How could you do this? What if someone had seen you?"

He opened his mouth to explain, but she cut him off.

"All I wanted was a sincere apology. With an explanation, preferably. I didn't need you to throw yourself at my feet!" Then her face changed again and he could see her biting back a grin. "At least not here where everyone can see us."

"Am I forgiven?" he asked.

"Yes, you are," she said, stepping closer. "I forgave you the moment I felt you understood what you had done to me."

"Do you still want the explanation?"

She smiled and nodded, but then inclined her head toward the pond.

"It can wait, though. Such topics will probably disturb the turtle-ducks."

He smiled as he felt the wall of anger and hurt dissolve between them, felt again the warmth and acceptance he so craved from her. Acceptance and something else, something palpable but unnamed, something so important, he knew that neither he nor his older counterpart could exist without it. He gathered her gently to him and kissed her, just a quick kiss, but needed nonetheless, to confirm whatever it was that bound them.

She took his hand and motioned to him to sit with her on the bench.

"After we discovered our bond," she started, her voice dreamy, "in those first, confusing days, you told me something and asked me to repeat it to you whenever I thought you needed to hear it. You said that there is no place for lies between us. That we can neither lie to each other, nor to ourselves. A lie will run like poison through our bond until we break apart. And if we do, we'll die."

"I've never lied to you."

"You have omitted the truth on occasion," she said with a light chuckle.

He was silent because he knew she was right.

She placed her hand on his face and forced him to look at her. The unnamed emotion shone brightly out of her eyes.

"I love you, Zuko. Never forget that."

The impact of her words jolted him back to reality, back to looking into the same eyes, round and blue and deeply concerned.

Moved to the core of his soul by what he had just heard, he could do nothing but lean in and press his lips against her.

Lightning hit again, sharp and wrenching, but he had anticipated it this time and held her to him with his free arm, fighting both their instincts to draw back. But the intensity of the impact lessened swiftly, and after only a few moments, it was nothing more than a strong current of energy, carrying them like a wave carries a boat.

_I will never forget_, he told her in his thoughts. _I promise._

Katara relaxed into the kiss and was soon kissing him back with exciting fervour.

_What will you not forget?_

Zuko's scar began to itch directly over his left eye, but since he had better things to do but to worry about this right now, he kept on kissing her.

_We can__not lie to each other, Katara. And we cannot lie to ourselves. If we do, we poison our bond and we'll break apart and die._

She shuddered in his arms, as his lips moved more firmly over hers.

_You have to remember that always, as __I will. And if you think I need to be reminded of it, you have to do that. It's too important to be forgotten._

The discomfort over his eye didn't go away. It turned into a throbbing pain.

_I promise_, she told him before ending their connection.

"You're in pain, Zuko," she said, anxiously eyeing his scar. "I can feel it."

He gritted his teeth against the increasing, burning pain.

Without another word, she tugged him to his feet. Then she removed his outer clothes until he stood with his chest bare, and started healing him.

When the receding pain finally allowed him a clear thought again, she was already working on his arms, back and chest, the countless cuts and bruises vanishing under her magic touch. He would never stop being awed by her ability.

"The scarred tissue over your eye is gone," she told him. "Again, it's not much, but you'll have your left eyebrow back in a few weeks."

He smothered a shout of joy, letting the happiness course through him quietly, washing away the last residues of pain and discomfort. Right now, he felt up to anything.

Something particular came to mind, when Katara's hand hovered over his neck. While carefully holding his gaze, she tentatively touched a spot on his neck. The moment her fingers touched the tender bruise, he remembered what she'd done to him the night before. His whole body remembered, firing his blood with immediate heat.

Her touch lingered on that spot, tenderly caressing it, causing new waves of pleasure to surge through him with every little touch.

"Do you want to keep it?"

The dark purr in her voice sent his body heat up a few more degrees, and his field of vision narrowed dangerously, until he was only aware of her, of the hungry look in her eyes, her tentative touch, her luscious body that suddenly stood so much closer to him than only minutes before.

He almost growled as the pink tip of her tongue shot out of her mouth for a split second, wetting her lips. They were right back where they had been last night, their bodies almost touching, drawn to one another by an unseen force, something in both of them clamouring for contact, for the touch of skin against skin, for an embrace as close as it could get.

"You didn't keep mine."

A barely perceptible shudder shook her lithe body for a moment, but her gaze didn't waver from his as her fingers slowly travelled down his body, almost to his navel. He trembled with the effort to hold himself perfectly still, to see what she would do.

With a sure, fluid movement, she reached to the left side of her neck and drew her hair back, exposing her neck. To make the invitation clear, she tilted her head to the side, offering him the vulnerable flesh, exposing her jugular vein.

A primitive gesture of ultimate trust, and it elicited a decidedly primitive response. This time, the growl broke free from within his chest and he closed the space between them, enclosing her in his arms, claiming what had been offered to him so freely.

Not for a second would he have thought about denying her. Not because of the little sting it would cause; sheltering her from such inconsequential pain would be an insult. This girl had endured much worse than that. She had been trapped in ice and freezing water, she had been hit and burned – often enough by him – fought benders of almost all elements. Pain was part of her life, just as it was part of his. And just to this small degree, it would be part of what they shared.

He closed his eyes and deeply inhaled the scent of her clean skin before he ran his lips along the delicate curve of her neck. His senses overwhelmed, all his awareness centred on his lips, teeth and tongue, he finally sunk his teeth once again into her skin, marking her as his.

When he was done and the mark pulsed purple and warm beneath his lips, he kissed it again, his eyes still closed, lips curved into what was probably an idiotically happy grin.

Suddenly, Katara's body stiffened, and her nails dug into his scalp where she had buried her fingers into his hair.

"I think I have two knives pointed at my back," she whispered.

With his mouth still on her neck, his eyes snapped open. He found himself staring into the slanted eyes of the woman who had shared his bed for the past weeks.

"If you're convinced your little water wench can't live without her kidneys, you will do what I say, Prince Zuko."

* * *

tbc 

Please review.


	10. Jealousy

**_Chapter 10: __Jealousy_**

Katara found herself growing increasingly weary of interruptions. It might have been fine back when it was Iroh, but being interrupted by Zuko's ex-girlfriend pressing her stupid daggers into her back was just plain irritating.

"Mai." Zuko announced what Katara already knew.

"Step back from her, Zuko," the voice behind her commanded. "And don't even think about firebending; I'm faster than you."

With a careful gesture of surrender, Zuko took a few tiny steps back, and Katara lowered her empty arms, clenching her hands into fists at her side.

"How did you find us?" Zuko asked, his face and voice curiously void of emotions.

Katara had expected anger from him, fear maybe, about them being discovered, but not such… complacency.

"You talk in your sleep, lover," Mai drawled. "Besides, I saw the maps you've tried to hide in your desk. All I had to do was keep coming here and waiting for you to show up."

"Where's Azula?"

Katara could feel the woman behind her give a bored shrug.

"At this time of day, probably in her bed at the palace."

Zuko's face was like a mask.

"And I'm supposed to believe that?"

"Believe what you want, _Zuzu_. When we learned about your foolish actions, I asked Azula what she meant to do to capture you and General Iroh. She just shrugged and told me that she for one couldn't be happier to have you and your uncle out of her hair, and that you were probably only on a wild goose-chase for your mother anyway. So I came alone."

"All right, so what do you want now?"

"I want you to come back with me and do the honourable thing you nearly promised. I'm tired of being either pitied or a laughingstock."

Mai still spoke in her usual careless tone, but Katara could sense the anger lurking just under the surface of the bored façade.

"I didn't promise you anything."

"Everyone expected it."

He shook his head. "I won't come back with you."

"You have no choice, darling, because I have your little plaything here at my mercy."

A little muscle twitched at the side of his face.

_Don't listen to my words, Katara. Get ready to freeze her at my command._

"Why do you think I care?" he said evenly.

"Don't play games, Zuko. I saw how much you care for her, back at the palace, and I just saw you sucking her neck." Katara heard her sneer. "Really, Zuko, a love-bite? I know you might want to cater to the primitive customs of her tribe, but isn't that taking things a bit too far?"

He shrugged. "You know that I like to indulge my primitive side from time to time. As you said, she's a plaything."

Katara flinched, but forced herself to concentrate on the water around her. Not actually seeing what she was doing could be a problem, as would be the fact that Mai could probably see every move she made to start waterbending. Her bending moves weren't short and quick like Zuko's.

_Don't worry. __Just call the water, I'll do the rest._

"You're a lousy liar."

Although his face was a calm mask, she could sense that, beneath it, he was coiled tightly like a tiger-bear about to strike. His eyes glittered dangerously, and a potent substance ran through his veins, a powerful drug that she knew came from fear and made one sharper, stronger and faster. A fighting drug, produced by their own bodies. She felt it in her own blood as well.

"Well, she's also a means to an end," he said. "She'll heal my scar."

Mai snorted with disbelief.

"Look at me, Mai. Don't you see that there's already a difference?"

He took a careful step toward her, and Katara could hear Mai's breath hitch as she saw the partially healed scar.

_NOW! _

She reacted to the command almost simultaneously to hearing it booming in her head. Just flicking her wrists was enough, because Zuko enforced her move with a mighty burst of power and a pretty neat waterbending stance. Only three days and he was already quite good at this.

Ice cracked behind her and she heard a muffled cry. Two wickedly sharp daggers lightly pierced her skin, but then abruptly lost contact.

She was about to turn and see just what exactly they had done to incapacitate Mai, when she was roughly yanked against a solid male chest and a hot mouth crashed down on hers, tongue desperately invading her mouth, hands on her back frantically searching for injuries.

_I was so afraid.__ Are you hurt? I'll kill her if she's hurt you._

Katara knew the after-effects of the fighting drug as well. When the danger was over, the taut nerves suddenly relaxed and left a powerful overexcitement.

_I'm all right, Zuko. _

She gently disentangled herself from his crushing embrace and ended their kiss.

"Thanks for caring," she whispered with a smile.

"It's not over," he said darkly. "I'm sure Azula is around here somewhere. We have to get moving."

"What do we do with her?" Katara asked while turning to Mai.

She started in horror when she saw that Zuko had wrapped Mai in a solid block of ice, including her head.

Quickly she liquefied the upper part of the ice-block. Mai desperately gasped for air as soon as her head was freed.

"We have to tie her up and take her with us for now, until I find a solution."

Apparently, anger was still coursing hotly through his system, because he suddenly slammed his hand against the ice and it gave under the red-hot heat of his hand, just enough for him to reach one of the daggers in her hand. He grabbed it and moved behind Mai, holding the dagger pointed to her throat.

"If you're convinced you can't live without your windpipe, you won't try anything funny, understood?"

Mai made an affirmative noise.

Zuko turned his gaze to Katara.

"Thaw the ice from her feet upward and search her for knives and daggers. She carries them practically everywhere."

"How do you know that?"

He avoided her gaze.

"I've seen her disrobe."

Katara started to do what he said, and soon an astounding amount of weapons piled next to her. Zuko was right, she carried knives in the most unusual places.

While the excitement of the fight slowly abated, their previous exchange flitted through her mind again.

_You talk in your sleep__, lover. _And:_ I've seen her disrobe._

"Did you sleep with her?"

The thought was surprisingly distressing. Of course she'd known that Mai had been his girlfriend of sorts, but that he would share his bed with Mai as he did with her was almost too disturbing to consider.

Mai snickered.

"Of course he did, dummy. You wouldn't believe how often."

Katara gritted her teeth. How could she have been so stupid as to believe that what they had was special to him as well?

"Shut up," Zuko growled.

When Katara removed a whole belt filled with tiny daggers from around Mai's waist, the girl spoke again.

"But now that it's the two of us with him, maybe we can bring even more variety into our dear prince's sex life."

Katara's head whipped up and she stared at Mai wide-eyed. She hated to feel so clueless.

Mai's eyes narrowed a little and then flew open.

"Virgin?"

She threw her head back and laughed loudly, not caring about the tip of the dagger pressing into the white skin of her slender throat.

"Oh, by Agni, Zuko, that's priceless," she wheezed between peals of laughter. "An innocent and you haven't yet enlightened her. That's so depraved, even for you."

Through her own anger, Katara wondered how Mai could be so oblivious to the livid man behind her. The tip of the little dagger almost drew blood and he looked positively murderous.

"Hold your tongue or I'll cut it off," he hissed.

"Why?" Mai asked chirpily. "I'm finally having some fun. Katara, we need to have a girl-talk soon. You need to know some things about our dear Zuko here… umpph."

As Katara looked up, she saw Zuko's hand clamped tightly over Mai's mouth, the dagger still poised at her throat.

"Why don't you let her talk?" she asked acerbically, while removing the last of the daggers from around Mai's upper arms. "Might be interesting."

………

For some reason that he could not quite recall anymore, Zuko had thought that Katara had known about his relationship with Mai. He knew for a fact that he had told her Mai was expected to be his wife someday.

Again he had underestimated her innocence, or maybe just the fact that the customs of her people didn't include premarital sexual activities.

Either way, with her usual accuracy, Mai had hit the sore spot without even trying, had found the one thing that could drive a wedge between them, shatter the fragile trust they'd built.

He could feel Katara's hurt and anger, but try as he might, he could not send his thoughts to her. Her mind had closed to him and she refused to meet his eyes.

Mai had wisely kept her mouth shut while they walked toward the village, but she looked sickeningly smug.

The village consisted of nothing but a few ramshackle cottages that cowered around the docks like old men around a Pai-Sho board. Zuko carefully scanned their surroundings for Fire-Nation soldiers, but the village didn't look like a worthwhile place for the attention of the Fire-Nation.  
Which was the reason he had picked the place.

As the walked along the dusty main road toward the docks, the first man they met almost stumbled backward at their sight.

"Do you have a death-wish, son?" he asked Zuko, nervously looking around. "Why have you captured this girl? Can't you see she's Fire-Nation nobility?"

Both he and Katara wore Earth-Kingdom clothing, but of course, a bound Mai was sure to draw attention.

"She ran away from her family," Katara said smoothly. "We were paid to bring her back."

Zuko fought the urge to kiss her for her quick thinking.

"That's right," he said. "But we need transportation. Is there a place around here where we can purchase ostrich-horses and provisions?"

They were pointed into the right direction, and after a quick negotiation during which they purchased what had to be the two most expensive ostrich-horses in the entire Earth-Kingdom, they were on their way farther inland, into the direction of Tang-Ma-Hal.

After some long and careful thinking, Zuko still hadn't come up with any better idea than to have Mai stay with them, regardless of how much he hated the fact. He couldn't let her go back and tattle to Azula, even if she was where Mai claimed her to be.

He had secured Mai into the saddle of one of the ostrich-horses, and they had packed their gear onto the other one.

Which meant that he and Katara had to walk.

"I can hear you screaming at me in my head," he said after about an hour of silent walking.

The path they had taken led through something that must have been a meadow or a cornfield a long time ago. Now it was only cracked, parched earth, and dust billowed behind them and the animals. Far in the distance, a bit of green forest could be seen, probably surrounding the settlement Zuko meant to reach before nightfall. It was still a long way off, though. The sun, now standing in its zenith, beat down on them with merciless heat.

"I am not screaming at you, I'm ignoring you," Katara said.

"Why?" he said, his patience as short as the shadows they cast. "I didn't lie to you. You knew about her."

"It's… you didn't tell me you had let her sleep with you."

Mai giggled loudly from her high vantage point.

"If it helps, we didn't do much sleeping, my dear. Has he not told you what an animal he is in bed?"

Zuko whipped around and glared at her. He didn't need her to make the situation worse. Curiously, he felt no embarrassment, only disgust. At Mai, at himself. He needed to stop her from sullying what he had learned to appreciate in Katara.

"Mai, keep quiet or I'll have to gag you."

Mai look chastened, an expression so obviously fake, that he began contemplating what material to use to keep her quiet.

"So he hasn't told you how insatiable he is?"

All right, enough was enough. He stopped and roughly pulled her down from the saddle, only resulting in Mai talking even more quickly than before.

"Do you know how often he needs it in one night and which position he prefers?"

"One more word and I swear I'll strangle you," he shouted at her.

Mai smiled sweetly. "You haven't told her? How dishonest of you."

_Have you lied to me?_

The quiet, sad voice in his head stilled his movements for a moment as cold panic settled over him. Like poison, the Katara in his visions had said. And he could feel it creeping through his veins already, weakening him, turning him into someone he did not want to be.

"I haven't told her, because it'll be different with her," he said softly.

He said it to Mai's face, but it was meant for Katara.

Mai's expression, smug and superior just moments ago, suddenly wavered. A deep sadness darkened her eyes, and suddenly he saw what had slipped his attention before. He saw redness, caused by prolonged crying. He saw shadows under her eyes, carefully covered with make-up.

But he was still livid. How could she have thought accosting him like she had would win her points with him? How could she think that her dragging his depravity to light in front of Katara would make him want to come back to her?

All it had done was driving him past any semblance of compassion.

"It'll be different," he said slowly, wanting her to understand every word, "because _she_ means something to me."

A horrified gasp came from where Katara stood.

_You jerk! _

Mai slowly closed her eyes and took a deep breath. A lonely tear rolled from the corner of one eye, drying halfway on her cheek. When she opened them again, an emotionless smile was on her lips, her expression bored, her eyes cold.

"Congratulations," Mai said. "You've finally managed to be at least as cruel as Azula."

He wanted to scream. Or laugh. He hadn't quite decided yet. This couldn't possibly get any worse.

"Did someone just mention my name?"

………

They spun. All of them. Staring wide eyed at the girl who didn't look as if she had just trudged for hours through dust and heat. Not one hair was out of place, no wrinkle on her clothes, no sweat on her brow.

Katara had to admit to being a little envious. Well, a lot, actually.

"You've followed me?" Mai asked, with so much sincere surprise in her voice that Katara found herself inclined to believe she truly had had no idea. After just witnessing how cruelly Zuko had treated Mai, she started to sympathize with the knife-thrower.

Azula smiled and shrugged.

"I knew you'd lead me to him. I was surprised you believed I wouldn't follow. As Zuzu here could tell you, I always lie."

She turned to Zuko then, a sugary smile on her face.

"So tell me, dearest brother, where's uncle?"

A bit of pink caught Katara's attention somewhere behind Azula. Of course, where Azula was, Ty Lee couldn't be far behind.

"Left him behind somewhere," Zuko said, feigning indifference.

Out from the corner of her eyes, Katara could see Ty Lee sidling up around them, trying to sneak up on Zuko.

Trying to draw as little attention to herself as possible, she brought her hand to her waterskin, carefully opening it.

"I don't believe you," Azula sneered. "You brought him to the Avatar. Where is he?"

When Ty Lee was in cartwheel distance from Zuko, Katara let a thin waterwhip snap toward Ty Lee. The girl screeched in the midst of a flip-flop, holding her stomach.

Katara had barely time to grin proudly to herself, when she felt the sizzle of a blue lightning in the air. She ducked, and the deadly blast missed her by only a few inches.

She instantly formed a wide shield to protect herself against the next attack, that turned half her bending water into steam.

Meanwhile, Zuko fired at Ty Lee, who dodged every attack effortlessly.

More of Katara's bending water turned to steam under a barrage of fireballs from Azula.

Things weren't looking good. At this rate, she could not defend herself long. There was no source of water around that she could reach.

And then, things got even worse.

Somehow, Ty Lee must have managed to come close enough to Zuko to stab him with her wicked acupressure moves. His hands were hanging uselessly at his sides as Ty Lee prepared for a stab that would probably send him to the ground.

To throw her off, Katara whipped a tendril of water at her, driving her back.

Simultaneously, she held a thin shield of water up against Azula, and was almost surprised when no more water sizzled away from it. Too late she realized what Azula was doing. Pointing two fingers at her helpless brother, she aimed a fatal shot at him.

"NO!!"

The scream was ripped from more than one throat.

Time slowed as Mai, who had followed the fight expressionless, threw herself in the way of the deadly flash, and it seemed to take an eternity for her body to be hurled backwards from its power, crashing into Zuko and toppling him over. She rolled a few feet away and then stopped moving. Completely.

Even from as far away as she stood, Katara's healing power told her of a life lost.

Time – for a short moment – seemed to hold its breath, stopping completely.

And then Katara ran.

An overwhelmingly powerful instinct told her that the next death would be hers, whether Azula hit Zuko or her. They couldn't survive without one another.

While running toward Zuko, she formed half of her remaining bending water into a hard ball of ice, hurling it with all her might at Ty Lee's head.

In mid jump, Ty Lee went down like a stone. Katara retrieved the ice-ball and used it to shackle Ty Lee's feet.

She came to a skittering halt in front of Zuko's motionless body. His eyes were closed, almost as if he was sleeping.

_Zuko!_

No answer.

Azula pointed two fingers at her, smiling.

The bit of water Katara had left would suffice for two ice daggers, maybe three. She couldn't even make a shield.

"Wasn't it admirably smart of me to wait until you were far away from the sea before confronting you?" Azula asked, smirking.

_Zuko, wake up._

"Very smart," Katara said, her fury fortunately holding her desperation at bay. "You've killed your best friend, and now you are going to kill your brother."

_Zuko, I need your help._

"Mai's not dead," Azula said with conviction. "I only intended to stun Zuzu."

_Can't… can't move_

Katara didn't need to check again, to know that Mai was dead, but it seemed a bad idea to announce that while Zuko was listening.

_If there was ever a time for you to show off that white fire, it's now. _

He groaned loudly and rolled a little, his arms coming with him like so much dead weight.

"Where is the Avatar?" Azula asked coldly. "Tell me and I'll spare your life… for now."

_I can move a__ few fingers, I think._

"You know this is a wasted effort: I'll never tell you."

_Just bring a spark, I can do the rest._

"How about if I let Zuzu here go free?"

_Say when, and I'll be ready._

"Are you planning on talking me to death?"

A spark of indignation lit in Azula's eyes, their colour so similar to Zuko's, but devoid of the depth of emotion.

Blue fire sparkled around her fingertips, and then the lightning shot toward her.

_NOW!_

The water slipped from her hands as Katara went into a firebending stance, throwing every bit of strength she had into the move.

White fire hissed forward from Zuko's fingertips, and as the blue and white met, the white flame sprang at Azula with multiplied energy, the counterthrust forcing Katara to stumble backwards.

A scream pierced the air before Azula's body was thrown through the air in a wide arc, landing with a thud at least five yards from where she had been standing.

She didn't move.

Neither did Katara.

Four prone bodies lay on the ground around her. One dead, one temporarily paralyzed.

She barely dared to check on Azula.

Dragging her feet through the dust, she walked over to Azula and found her still breathing, if only shallowly. Fine smoke came from her clothes and hair, but Katara could sense no obvious physical injuries.

Like an automaton, she ripped Azula's fine overtunic to shreds and bound her hand and feet. It wouldn't do much good once Azula could use firebending again, but it would at least keep her for a while. She trudged over to Ty Lee, removed the bit of water wrapped as ice around the girl's ankles, and carefully guided it back into her waterskin.

Ty Lee was trussed up like Azula only a few short minutes later.

As Katara was about to walk over to Zuko, Ty Lee stirred.

"Mai?" she asked groggily.

Katara shook her head.

A loud sob tore from the girl's body, and she turned to her side and rolled herself into a tight ball, as if curling around her pain.

Zuko had his eyes closed when she approached him. She knew he wasn't unconscious, he was just afraid to face the reality of the situation.

She knelt down next to him and gently stroked his matted, dirt-covered hair.

_It's over._

His paralysis wasn't a condition she could heal. But from experience she knew that it would only last a few more minutes.

_What about Mai?_

She felt the glimmer of hope in him and for a moment debated to wait before she told him. But maybe it was better to tell him now, when he couldn't rage and scream and do any damage.

_She was dead before she hit the ground._

The force of his pain ripped through her as if something was tearing her apart. No love, no anger, no loss. Only guilt. Bottomless, overwhelming guilt.

_It's not your fault._

Tears ran down his face.

_She died for me._

Her own tears were almost cool on her overheated cheeks.

_She loved you._

He took a shuddering breath.

_I have to bring her back to the Fire-Nation_. _She needs to be laid to rest where her ancestors sleep._

She continued stroking his hair.

_Ty Lee and Azula will surely see to that._

His body jerked, his hands balling to fists. He heaved himself upright and at once looked around himself.

"Azula still lives?"

Katara nodded.

Zuko tried to struggle upright.

"I'll kill her. This ends right here, right now."

Katara grabbed his arm.

"She's out cold. You can't murder a defenceless woman. And she's your sister."

"_She_ murdered a defenceless woman!"

Katara had nothing to say to that.

"You're better than her, Zuko."

They both turned at the scratchy voice behind them.

Ty Lee had somehow crawled toward Mai's body and now rested her head atop her friend's chest as if she was trying to listen for a heartbeat.

"You two have to run," she said breathlessly, her eyes wide and unfocused but without tears. "When Azula wakes up, she'll be livid."

Zuko scrubbed his hands over his face for a few times, like someone trying to free himself of the residual terror from a nightmare.

"Do you think she'll follow us?" he asked at last.

"She is convinced you'll lead her to the Avatar," Ty Lee answered. "Is he even still alive, Zuko?"

Zuko shook his head.

"He's dead. I am merely looking for my mother."

Katara felt unease creeping up on her at hearing his effortless lie. Of course she knew it was the best he could've done, but still. Mai had said he was a lousy liar, but right now Katara didn't think so.

"Then where's General Iroh?" Ty Lee asked evenly. There was no curiosity in her voice, nor even some sort of unfriendly suspicion. It almost sounded as if she only asked to have something she could tell Azula to keep her from following them. "Azula thinks you had meant for him to teach the Avatar."

"If that was true, she should know that it would be no use following me. My uncle is obviously not here."

He heaved himself upright and walked over to Mai's body, staring at her lifeless form.

"What will you do with Mai?"

Ty Lee wearily closed her eyes, and then opened them again with a look of fake cheerfulness. When Katara thought about it, Ty Lee's chirpiness had never quite seemed genuine.

"We'll take her home, Zuko," Ty Lee whispered. "I promise."

With an astounding agility, Ty Lee then rolled away from Mai, apparently to give Zuko the opportunity to say his goodbye.

Katara stood rooted to the spot, willing herself to leave but unable to do so.

Zuko knelt down next to Mai's body and looked at her for a long time. Then he gently caressed her cheek, bent down and kissed her forehead.

"Thank you, Mai. For everything."

Without a look at his sister or a farewell to Ty Lee, he then stood and turned to the horses.

"Come on, Katara, we don't have the whole day."

Dazed, she moved to follow him.

"Katara?"

She turned back to see Ty Lee smiling widely at her.

"Say hello to that yummy brother of yours for me, will you? I'd like to meet him again some time."

Katara nodded and turned again, swallowing the retort that this was probably a rather one-sided wish.

* * *

tbc 

Please review.


	11. Grief

_**Chapter 11: Grief**_

Zuko had placed her in front of him in the saddle. Under different circumstances, their position might have been considered rather intimate but, as it was, Zuko could've been a stone pillar and she wouldn't have noticed the difference.

He barely moved, said nothing, and had his mind so firmly barricaded against her that trying to reach him felt like butting her head against a solid wall.

Their psychic connection was something rather new, and yet – after only a few days – she had grown so used to this sort of quiet, unobservable communication that she missed it.

Well, she had to try the old-fashioned way then.

"Are we ever going to talk about what happened?" she asked.

With both of them now mounted on the ostrich-horse, their progress was much faster than before. The green strip of the forest was already close enough to discern different trees. There would be water there, she sighed inwardly.

"No."

The fact that he had actually deigned to offer her question a semblance of an answer almost made her fall off the horse.

"You can't shut me out forever," she pointed out, hating the note of whining creeping into her voice.

"I can try."

She smiled as she remembered a similar conversation in a pool of crystal clear water on a tropical island. Her body ached at the memory of warmth and water.

"I know you feel guilty—"

"You know nothing," he interrupted her harshly, his voice clearly indicating he meant this to be the end of the discussion.

"But I feel guilty, too."

Her admission apparently gave him pause, because for a long moment he seemed to hold his breath.

"Whatever for?"

She sighed.

"I shut you out," she said quietly. "Just like you're doing now. I thought you had lied to me. I felt betrayed and sorry for myself…" She cleared her throat. This would be so much easier if he would just read her thoughts. "It's like you said this morning. Every lie, even the ones I told myself, is poisoning us, weakening us. Azula wouldn't stand a chance against the two of us if we were at our best. If we fought together. Ty Lee could never even dream of coming close to you if you were at the top of your game. Mai had to die, because I made us weak with my…"

She stopped. Why was it her again who was pouring out her heart for him to examine, when he – clearly the one of them with the bigger issues – refused communication altogether?

"With your?" he prompted.

"Jealousy," she ground out.

He said nothing. He didn't even make some sort of noise that indicated he had heard her. He was just completely silent.

By the time they reached the outskirts of the forest, Katara was about ready to fall asleep on top of the ostrich-horse. Night had settled swiftly over the sky, leaving them in an eerie darkness, not even lit by moonlight. While heat had plagued them during the day, the night air grew cold rather rapidly. Repeatedly, shivers raced over Katara's skin and she wished she could just melt into the warm body behind her.

Zuko guided them with a fire he held in his hand, but Katara could feel that he was at least as tired as she was.

She revived for a moment when she heard the lively gurgling of water.

"There's a creek up ahead," she said. "Maybe we should camp there for the night."

He said nothing – surprisingly – but nonetheless guided the horses along a narrow path that seemed to lead closer to the water.

A few minutes later, the path ended on the banks of the little stream that cheerfully tumbled over rocks and stones, the soft lively murmuring of water like music in Katara's ears.

After the lifelessness of the desert they had crossed today, the sound of water, the rustling of leaves, the scent of wet earth and fresh grass almost made her forget her fatigue.

Zuko dismounted the horse first and then helped her down.

Wordlessly, they unpacked their sleeping pelts and various utensils for a quick meal.

Zuko lightened a little campfire while Katara washed the day's dust and grime from her skin and hair, and filled her waterskin.

They chewed on their food in utter silence.

Katara had wrapped herself in a thick blanket but was still shivering. She had stopped counting how often Zuko had already refilled his cup with water and downed it in one gulp.

"We have to meditate." She was pointing out what should be obvious.

Zuko glowered at the flames.

"I can't," he said after a while and threw back another cup of water. "We should go to sleep."

"You know it won't get better while we sleep," she said, not particularly keen on meditating either. "You'll go mad with thirst and I'll probably freeze to death."

He glowered some more.

She sighed.

"This morning, when you said we needed to meditate, I didn't want to because of what happened that time before. But I was sensible and did it anyway."

He shook his head. Obviously, sense was too much to be expected.

"I was frightened and I guess still a bit angry," she continued. "But something happened during our connection that made me trust you again, made me forgive you."

He looked up at her.

"You did forgive me," he stated in an odd tone, as if he knew exactly what she meant.

"I had a vision this morning," he explained at her vacant stare, "and I've seen you in that vision. You forgave me."

It should be laughable, but weird as it was, his words made perfect sense to her.

"Maybe…" she started, but he cut her off.

"I can't, Katara," he said, desperation lacing voice. "I… I am so full of negative feelings right now, so full of sorrow and hatred and guilt… I don't know what I'll do to you when we're connected. You're better off freezing than traipsing around in my head."

Her teeth chattered as another bout of shivers chased over her skin. He gave her a pained look and emptied another cup of water.

As tired as she was, she couldn't bring herself to go to sleep. She knew she would wake up feeling even worse, so as little as it was, talking to him at least was some connection, even it wasn't enough.

"Did you love her?" she asked after long minutes of silence.

"No," he said without having to think about it. "But now I wish I had. Her death would be less useless."

Her eyes flew open.

"It wasn't useless," she protested. "Mai meant to save your life, and she did."

Zuko closed his eyes and slowly shook his head.

"You don't understand," he said.

"Then explain it to me."

He chewed on his bottom lip and even in the flickering light of the dying campfire could she see the small cracks forming on his lips. He didn't just feel the thirst, he actually looked dehydrated.

"What Mai did…" he said but trailed off. He took another gulp of water. "See, Fire-Nation women are said to be fierce and determined, especially when defending and protecting their loved ones. The concept of Benso-Nori is as old as the Fire-Nation itself."

"Benso-Nori?" she asked quietly, impossibly relieved that he was finally talking.

"Benso-Nori is an ancient law. The woman's sacred right to defend her chosen mate and the children she has born him. Even if what the man did was outside the law, the woman can't be punished for defending and protecting him. Had Mai lived, Azula couldn't have brought charges against her for helping a traitor, as long as Mai claimed Benso-Nori."

He was silent for a while but Katara knew he had more to say.

"She died because she considered me her mate, while I didn't feel the same about her."

Katara shivered and nodded.

"How long had you known her?" she asked to avoid another lull in the conversation.

"Forever."

Katara looked at him questioningly.

"Mai and Ty Lee practically grew up with Azula. Their fathers are high-ranking generals in the Fire-Nation army."

An absurd picture of a miniature Azula, Mai and Ty Lee was suddenly in Katara's head, all of them dressed in cute Fire-Nation dresses and playing with dolls.

"They never played with dolls," Zuko said.

Katara glared at him.

"Why can you read my thoughts and I not yours?"

"I was reading your face," he said with a shadow of a grin.

He cleared his throat a few times, sounding hoarse and scratchy. Definitely dehydrated.

Katara's fingers and toes felt numb.

"I could try to show you," he offered. "My childhood. If we don't touch what happened today, maybe you'll be safe."

She bit her lip to keep herself from pointing out that everything was safer than dying of hypothermia.

He crawled over to her, visibly weak, and took her hand.

"Your fingers feel like ice," he said.

"I've noticed," she said through chattering teeth.

He smiled a bit. "If I drink any more water, it'll come out of my ears."

Then he grabbed her fingers a little bit more firmly.

"Close your eyes and don't let go of my hand. Follow my voice."

He gathered a flame from the campfire to him, while Katara drew the water from his refilled cup.

The two elements wound around each other like two lovers in an embrace.

She moaned with pleasure at the contact. She would never grow used to the delight of that first moment. Like coming into a warm house after hours in a blizzard, like crawling into a heap of cosy furs, like thawing one's freezing feet in front of a glowing fireplace.

She basked in the warmth for a while, only from afar hearing Zuko's throaty groans of relief.

_Zuko?_

Around her everything was black, which was not surprising since she had her eyes closed.

_I'm here.__ Don't open your eyes. Try to imagine me in your mind._

Nothing easier than this. In the midst of the black void stood Zuko as she had seen him last, only that he looked a bit healthier now, refreshed and strong.

_Can you see me talking to you?_

She could indeed see his lips moving in synch with the thoughts she heard, giving the illusion of speech. He squeezed her hand encouragingly.

"Now imagine the palace."

He had barely said that – or thought it – when he was suddenly standing in one of the miles-long corridors of the palace, that seemed to have no end and no beginning.

With sure strides, he led her along the corridor. She looked over at him and almost grinned at the fact that he looked so different from the stately Fire-Nation prince she had met back in that palace. Not only because of the Earth-Kingdom clothes he wore. Without the topknot, his hair fell loosely around his face, grown to almost shoulder-length. She had to admit that he looked rather fetching with longer hair. She had never cared much for that ponytail, though.

During her musings regarding Zuko's hair style, they had reached a large door, and when Zuko pushed it open they stood in a lovely garden.

The centrepiece was a large, finely curved pond with a low bridge leading from one side to the other. A setting sun spilled orange light into the garden and birds chirped in the artfully cut trees and hedges. Katara could even smell the exotic flowers in the air. If this was a vision, it was a very realistic one.

A family of turtle-ducks swam peacefully across the unruffled surface, two little ones behind their mother.

"They _are_ cute," she said, looking to Zuko, but his attention was riveted to the side of the pond.

From there, a childish giggle erupted, followed by a melodic female laugh. A woman sat on the ground, clad in long flowing robes, holding a little boy on her lap and tickling him playfully.

"Is that your mother?" Katara asked, already knowing the answer. "She is so beautiful."

When he didn't reply, she looked over to him. Tears were streaming down his face, and as he caught her looking, his lips twitched in an apologetic smile.

"I can't hide from you here," he said. "And yes, she is beautiful. I used to think she was the most beautiful woman in the world."

Katara smiled at the loving play between mother and son.

"Tiny Zuko," she exclaimed with feigned rapture. "You were so cute!"

He gave her a hard stare, but because of the wetness in his eyes it rather lacked conviction.

Then, as if a shadow had fallen over the sun, a dark presence seemed to enter the garden. Zuko tensed at her side.

Katara could see the man only from behind, but she guessed that he was the man who would later become Fire-Lord Ozai.

Both mother and son scrambled upright as they saw him, bowing respectfully.

"Zuko," he said, in a surprisingly pleasant baritone. "I wish to speak to your mother."

The little boy bowed again, chanced a quick look at the towering form of his father and then all but ran from his presence.

"Ursa," the man thundered when little Zuko had vanished. "What did I tell you about mollycoddling our son? How do you expect him to grow into a warrior, into this nation's leader, if you keep treating him like an infant?"

Ursa kept her eyes to the ground, but even from afar could Katara sense a certain air of defiance in the way she carried herself.

"He is a child, my lord. He needs love just like any other boy."

Ozai took a threatening step toward his wife, and Katara could feel Zuko stiffen even more, his hand holding hers in a bruising grip.

"He is not like any other boy," Ozai said not loud, but with unmistakable menace. "He is a prince, and he's enough of a disgrace without you turning him into even more of a wimp."

A lone tear rolled down Ursa's cheek, but she still kept her face hidden from her husband.

"I just wish he were a little bit more like his sister," Ozai said and then turned.

Now Katara had to cling to Zuko's hand for dear life, while she covered her mouth with the other to stifle a cry of surprise.

Every time she had tried to imagine the Fire-Lord's face, she had come up with something hideous, something more monster than man.

But in reality, Ozai was easily the most handsome man Katara had ever seen. Long black hair framed an evenly cut face with high cheekbones, a straight nose and a strong, angular jaw. Bright, golden eyes shone beneath straight black eyebrows.

He looked exactly like she thought Zuko would look in a few years. Minus Zuko's scar, of course.

"He seems so young," she whispered after Ozai had walked past without noticing them.

"A male member of the royal family is expected to be married by the time he is eighteen years of age. My parents were both sixteen when they tied the knot, seventeen when I was born."

"Tied the knot?" she asked.

"It's the wedding ceremony, we—"

"I know," she interrupted. "I was just asking because it's called the same in our culture; it's probably a similar ceremony."

They walked toward Ursa, who stood still like a statue where her husband had left her. Then something else occurred to Katara.

"But your uncle seems so…"

"Old?" Zuko finished for her.

"I was looking for a more flattering adjective."

"He is much older than father," Zuko said with a shrug. "They're only half-brothers. Azulon married again after his first wife died. My father is the son from his second marriage. That's why no one believed Azulon would make my father his successor. It was said that grandfather had truly loved his first wife and always gave preference to Iroh."

"Why do you think he changed his mind?"

"I don't think he did," Zuko said darkly.

Katara would have asked him to elaborate, but just at that moment a noise like a horde of shrieking lemurs came from behind them and they leaped out of the path of what sounded like imminent danger.

It turned out that the shrieking lemurs were three little girls, chased by one wet Fire-Nation prince.

"Zuko," his mother reprimanded him. "Be polite to your sister and her friends."

"They dunked me!" he said with all the indignation his little self could muster. Which seemed a lot. "Azula put them up to it."

Katara was enjoying herself immensely. Not only did she find little Zuko just too cute for words, the three miniatures of his sister and her friends almost made her laugh out loud. How different they looked from the three deadly warriors they had become. Or dead warriors, in Mai's case.

Speaking of Mai, one had to be blind not to see the adoring look in her eyes as she gazed at Zuko. Probably she only learned much later how to shield her emotions.

"We didn't dunk him; dumb-dumb fell into the pond by himself," Azula sniped.

"Because you almost set Mai on fire!" little Zuko shrieked in a rather undignified way.

Ursa levelled a dark look at her youngest.

"Is that true?" she asked.

Azula opened her mouth, probably to tell another lie, when Mai stepped forward.

"Zuko tells the truth, my lady," she said in a tiny, wavering voice, visibly frightened to speak so candidly to the First Lady. "He saved me."

Ursa was now obviously angry with her daughter.

"Azula, I thought we agreed that you are not to use firebending while you're playing with your friends!"

Azula was apparently smart enough to know when to declare defeat. She assumed a contrite posture and lowered her eyes.

"Yes, mother, I am sorry. It won't happen again."

Little Zuko looked smug, Mai looked at him with something akin to hero-worship.

Then, suddenly, they were alone.

The sun had set and only the faint light of dusk still illuminated the garden.

"She always liked you," Katara said unnecessarily.

Zuko walked with her to pond, staring glumly at the turtle-ducks that slept with their heads tucked into their shells.

"I know she did. That's why I thought it smart to make her my wife. I knew I had to marry eventually, and that I would have precious little choice which girl would be my wife. There are only so many girls of noble birth. And Mai always liked me. Not because I was the prince, but because of… me, personally. And I knew that this was the best I could hope for. A woman who liked me, who would be loyal to me, whatever happened, whatever I did. With all the intrigue and backstabbing going on at court, a loyal wife could mean the difference between life and death.

"She was always there for me, she never denied me anything. In return I…"

He stopped talking and dragged his hand through his hair.

"What?"

"I dishonoured her, Katara. In the worst possible way. It's my prerogative as a male to take other women to my bed, but once I left with you, I exposed her to derision and pity. No man with an ounce of self-respect would have considered taking her as his wife after what I did. And when she came back to demand from me that I restore her honour, I hurt her even more."

"You did," Katara said evenly. "But she forgave you."

He snorted. "How do you know?"

"She saved your life, remember? She wouldn't have done it if she had not forgiven you."

"Katara is right."

They both whipped around at the familiar voice behind them, and almost fell backwards into the pond. Only that there wasn't a pond behind them anymore. Around them was just darkness. Katara felt like her blood was freezing in her veins.

In front of them stood Mai – floated, actually – her hands bound, a scorch-mark right above her heart, her eyes glassy and lifeless.

Katara had to remind herself forcefully that this was a vision. She took a quick look over at Zuko, but he wasn't much better off than she was. If she had ever believed that his pale skin couldn't turn any whiter, she was proven wrong.

"Mai," he rasped.

"I knew you never loved me, Zuko," the apparition said. "I chose to ignore that, thinking it didn't matter. I was wrong."

"I am sorry, Mai," Zuko said. "I wasn't… I didn't mean to… I know I was selfish, but I never meant to hurt to you. I know it is no excuse for my behaviour and I don't know how to ask your forgiveness, how to repay you for saving my life."

"I am dead, Zuko," Mai pointed out sensibly. "It's too late for a great many things."

Zuko's head dropped to his chest, making him look like a scolded schoolboy.

Mai smiled.

"But you can give me a promise."

"Whatever you wish, Lady Mai."

Mai's smile turned benign at his respectful address.  
"You can promise to do everything in your power to defeat your father and sister. You can promise to honour my sacrifice by leading a long and happy life."

Zuko bowed to Mai.

"I promise to try."

A mischievous glint sparkled in Mai's dead eyes.

"And you can promise to name one of your children after me."

They both gasped. Then they grew silent as a little girl appeared out of the dark. She looked at them with wide blue eyes, her long black hair adorned with the tiny crown of a Fire-Nation princess.

"Mommy? Daddy?" she asked, puzzled.

A powerful feeling surged through Katara at the sound of the girl's voice. Somehow she knew who she was.

"Mai," Katara whispered and reached out with her free hand. But before she could touch the girl, she vanished.

"I think that's settled then," Mai said.

Zuko bowed again.

"I give you my word, Lady Mai, that we will honour your wishes."

Since Zuko had said 'we', Katara felt compelled to bow too. It was, after all, the least she could do.

As quickly as she had appeared, Mai was gone, leaving them alone in the black void.

Tiredness gripped Katara's mind and body. Not the exhaustion she felt when they needed to meditate, just good old fatigue.

"Hold me," she whispered to Zuko.

He let go of her hand and enveloped her in his arms, apparently glad at her request, judging by the fierceness of his embrace.

And then the darkness swallowed them.

………

For a wonderful eternity, Zuko drifted through a sea of darkness. Not the fearful kind of darkness, the one where monsters lurked and horrors and pain. But a darkness that wrapped him in black silk, soft and smooth. He did not feel hunger or thirst, he wasn't cold or too warm, and he did not feel pain or sorrow. He was rested and strong. Everything was just right, just perfect.

He felt surrounded by a shield of something powerful, something eternal and good. And he never wanted to leave the place that held him with such comfort.

His senses returned to him one by one. First the sense of hearing: birds chirping, a nearby stream murmuring, sounding like fresh water. A breeze of air rustling the leaves above.

A clearing in a wood.

He remembered a clearing.

Smell was next. Fresh grass, wood-smoke… and woman. Warm and sleepy.

Katara.

The rest of his senses snapped to attention, even though he kept his eyes closed with the trained patience of a warrior.

His head rested on something comfortable, and in his hand he held something soft, and warm… and round. A few pieces of rough cloth separated his hand from naked skin, but he knew that his left hand cupped Katara's breast.

He smiled to himself. His smile grew wider as he felt a gentle hand softly caressing his hair. Maybe he could pretend to sleep just a few minutes longer.

_I know you're awake.__ I can feel it. Stop thinking smug thoughts._

He feared the idiotic wide grin would stay permanently on his face if he didn't stop at once. Problem was he couldn't.

_If __you knew exactly what I'm thinking, you'd be running as fast as you could._

A girlish giggle fluttered through her chest, he could feel it vibrating through his hand.

_Don't flatter yourself. I might not be able to read all your thoughts__, but I can read what's poking into my thigh._

Still smiling, he opened his eyes and propped himself upright. Hesitantly, he drew his hand away from its comfortable resting place, vowing he would put it back there soon.

He turned his head to find her smiling up at him. It was a breath-taking, heart-stopping sight.

With a rush, everything came back to him. The horrible events of the day before. Them bleeding strength, hurting with its loss. The meditation. Pictures of the past – and the future.

But it couldn't touch him anymore. He could look into her eyes, deep and blue, like the sea on a calm day, and everything was still perfect. His soul sighed in relief at the temporary absence of torment and sorrow.

His fingertips traced the contours of her face, along the side, up to her brow, along the eyebrows and down the bridge of her nose. Her mouth opened on an exhale as he touched her lips, and she lifted her chin to accommodate his roving fingers as they glided down the column of her neck to the V of her dress. He reverently touched the skin at the edges of her dress, not venturing farther, but moving upwards again, his fingertips dipping into the hollow at her throat.

Through all of this, she looked at him, unwavering and fearless. And he knew in that moment that they were connected by more than their elements, by more than the thoughts they shared, or the energy that flowed through both of them.

"She had your eyes," he murmured.

Her hand was back in his hair again, softly stroking and inexorably pulling him toward her.

"And your hair," she said.

He was caught in a moment of magic. He knew that at some point, maybe just a few minutes from now, the world would start turning again, reality would set in and everything would be as bad as ever. But this moment belonged to him.

"When I saw her," he whispered, "I knew I loved her. I knew she was mine."

"I felt that too."

"I want that, Katara," he said, more urgently because he felt that time was running out. "All of that. I want that future, even if it scares you. I—"

"Shh," she said, a smile glittering in her eyes. "It doesn't scare me. Not anymore."

The idiotic wide grin was still on his face. The corners of his mouth were already starting to hurt.

Not that he cared.

"Now what does a girl have to do to get a kiss around here?"

* * *

tbc 

Please review.


	12. The River Huang

**A/N: **Content warning! Check the rating.

* * *

**_Chapter 12: The __River Huang_**

Zuko had never much cared for kissing. Not that he didn't like it, it was just that in the grand scheme of things it didn't seem very important. It was like the first word in a sentence, the first move in a fight, the first stroke of a brush on the paper when one was beginning to paint. Necessary, but unspectacular.

But ever since he started kissing Katara, he had begun to re-evaluate his opinion.

Kissing, he mused absently while his tongue stroked Katara's, relishing the texture, delighting in the taste, was a very fine thing in and of itself. A whole book, a war complete with victory, a colourful painting of great beauty.

Or, if he stopped being quite so poetic, it was something that he wanted to do despite his body demanding rather insistently that he should do much more.

Which – of course – he wanted to do as well, but not if it meant stopping kissing her.

Lying half under him, Katara seemed to be enjoying things as much as he was, if the way she kissed him back and made all those exciting little sounds deep in her throat was any indication.

"Oh Zuko," she moaned when he gave both of them a moment to draw a breath.

No other two words could have made him so happy.

"Hmm," he murmured against the side of her neck.

He kissed his way up to her ear, where he spent some time nibbling her earlobe.

Katara started to giggle, but then moaned when he traced the shape of her ear with his tongue.

His left hand was no use to him, because he was propped up on his left elbow. So his right had to do all the work. A pity, really, since he wanted to worship her body with two hands, wanted to make her feel everything he could. He wanted her to be splayed out before him on a comfortable, wide bed. Not nestled inside thick sleeping pelts that left little room for manoeuvring.

But for the time being, he would make do with his right. He quickly untied the sash of her outer garments and peeled them away. Underneath, he found another layer of clothing, not as coarse as the other one. After some fumbling, all done without breaking their kiss, he found another sash and untied that too. He marvelled at his own dexterity.

Finally, his fingers skimmed naked skin.

Her stomach quivered as his fingertips softly touched the heated skin, its texture softer and smoother than his finest silken undertunic. A pained note came into her voice as he circled her navel with his fingertips, dipping into it for a second, and then withdrawing again.

_Zuko__, my body's on fire. _

He smiled against her mouth.

_You know what they say about playing with fire… _

A louder moan interrupted their silent communication, as he abruptly ceased his teasing caress and splayed his hand wide, rubbing it fully over her stomach. He could feel the edge of her ribs as his hand roamed higher, the rapid rising and falling of her chest and then… more cloth. Her breast-bindings.

Damn.

No way to get those off without patiently unwrapping the whole thing. He'd seen how long it had taken her to get out of this stupid contraption. Those things should be forbidden, they had to be detrimental for a woman's health. They certainly were bad for his temper.

"This is ridiculous," he muttered under his breath as he uselessly tried to work his fingers under the tight wrappings.

The kiss already broken, along with the mood, he opened his eyes to look at Katara. Her eyes were half-lidded and unfocused. Her breath came in short bursts and her lips looked like ripe cherry-plums. Delicious enough to forget about obstinate clothing.

As he leaned down to kiss her again, he heard the growl.

Instantly alarmed, he shielded her with his body and took a frantic look around.

Nothing.

No predator's eyes staring at him from a few feet away, no ominous rustle in the shrubbery beyond.

And then it growled again, right beneath their sleeping pelts.  
His stomach. Or hers. Or both.

Further listening to his own body confirmed that he was indeed hungry. Ravenous, in fact.

His stomach grumbled again, louder than before.

He lifted his head and smiled sheepishly.

"I am hungry."

Katara's gaze cleared, and then she rolled her eyes while trying to wriggle out from under him.

"Seriously, men," she muttered after she had succeeded and was tying her sash properly around herself. "Only two desires. Hunger and thirst. You're just like Sokka."

She stomped away before he could gather his senses enough to get up as well.

With some trepidation he watched as she started to prepare a sumptuous breakfast. To his immense relief, she did not seem too angry. In fact, every time he turned to look away, he could've sworn she smiled.

"You and Sokka," she said after a while, probably to fill the silence. "I can't wait for you to meet again. If you don't kill each other at first sight, you'll be inseparable."

A strange sort of tenderness bloomed inside him at her words. For one thing, because he knew how she missed her brother and her friends. For another, because even through all her grumbling he felt her sincere wish for him to meet her brother, to have him approve of him one way or another. To have them accept each other, maybe even become friends.

"I'd rather be inseparable from his sister," he drawled.

Katara glowered at him.

He grinned broadly.

Her hard stare faltered and after another few moments, she grinned as well.

"Well," she said in a tone of feigned resignation. "It seems we have no choice in that matter."

Further conversation was cut short, because she put a plate in front of him, heaped with what had to be half of all their provisions.

"Eat."

_That's right__, my sweet,_ he thought smugly while he shovelled food into his mouth. _A smart woman always keeps her lover well fed._

She visibly balked.

"You're not my lover!"

He grinned around a mouthful of poached eggs.

_Then what am I?_

Katara thoughtfully chewed on a piece of dried fruit.

_You're my… friend._

The grilled bacon tasted like heaven.

_Last time I checked, friends didn't kiss._

She blushed prettily.  
He wondered how long it would take, how much he had to show and teach her, for her to stop blushing. With an odd bout of anger at himself, he hoped she'd never quite lose so much of herself.

_If you continue to tease me about this, it won't happen again._

The last bite of his food stuck in his throat at the serious threat.

"I'm sorry," he choked out.

Katara laughed. "Finally something with which to scare you."

His smile froze on his face. Katara, picking up the dramatic change of his mood, looked at him concerned.

"Zuko?"

"You did scare me yesterday," he said.

The illusion of careless happiness fled then, just as he had begun to believe it would stay with him.

"When I saw you fighting with Azula, all I wanted was to protect you. But Ty Lee kept getting in my way and then…"

He clamped his mouth shut before his voice would start to waver. With brutal clarity, he remembered that awful second when Katara had lowered her shield to keep Ty Lee from attacking him again, while Azula prepared for a deathly blast. In some deranged way, he had been impossibly relieved when she had directed her aim at him.

"We have to learn to fight together, as we are meant to do," he said when he had buried his emotions deep enough.

"But first you have to learn to trust my abilities," Katara replied.

"I do."

"No," she said, shaking her head. "If you did, you wouldn't have worried so much that it distracted you."

She was right, in a way, but he knew he could not help himself.

"I'll always worry, because I care," he whispered.

He looked up, finding her gaze fixed on him and he could feel it again, the tenuous bond weaving like golden thread between them, growing stronger every time their souls touched.

"So do I," she said.

The ostrich-horses nickered behind them, reminding him that they needed to move.

He stood up and stretched his arms. "We have to get moving."

Katara busied herself with cleaning up the remnants of their breakfast. "Do you think Azula will come after us?"

He was wondering that himself.

"I don't know. But I think that if she had, we'd be dead by now. She could move much faster than we are doing, if she had set her mind on killing us."

"So what do you think she's planning?"

He rubbed his hands over his eyes. Life would be so much easier if there was a way to predict Azula's twisted machinations.

"The only reason we're probably still alive might be her hope that I'll lead her to the Avatar yet."

Katara seemed to ponder that for a moment, while he started to carry their packs to the horses.

"Maybe she wants you to lead her to your mother."

He paused for a moment.

"There was never much love lost between her and mother. She didn't seem affected after mother left. She was…"

An odd feeling crept up on him, a faint echo from the past. Usually, his memories of his mother were happy and full of laughter. But suddenly, there was a new component to it. Ursa had lavished love and attention on him – and only on him.  
Azula had been the one who was reprimanded and put in her place. Try as he might, he could not remember his mother cuddling Azula, or just looking at her with the same affection she had so freely given to him.

"Mother always preferred me to her. And I think Azula knew that."

Katara's eyes went wide with shocked disbelief.

"But she seemed such a warm woman. Doesn't that seem cruel?"

He swung into the horse's saddle and reached down to Katara so she could get up in front of him.

"As a child, I thought it right that mother loved me more, while father preferred Azula. But I guess that doesn't make it right."

Katara patted his hands that reached around her to grab the reins.

"You can ask her about that soon, right?"

He kicked the ostrich-horse into a fast trot.

"Right."

………

The day before, Zuko had so purposely ignored her nearness that Katara was almost surprised that, today, he seemed to be very aware of her body pressed against him.  
Not only did he constantly nuzzle her hair and make random comments about how good she smelled, at some point, he started to kiss the side of her neck.

The bite-mark he had left on her shoulder was still amplifying the slightest touch, and although she certainly appreciated his show of affection, the fact that she couldn't do anything perched precariously on top of a moving ostrich-horse had her nerves starting to fray. She needed to distract him.

"Why are we following the stream?"

"It's the river Huang," he answered. "It meets with a number of tributaries, and by the time it reaches Tang-Ma-Hal, it's a mighty river."

"So we only have to follow the river to reach Tang-Ma-Hal?"

"Yes."

She almost fell off the horse, because she was laughing so hard.

"Then why do we sit on these horses, when we could take a boat and be there in… I don't know… fifteen minutes?"

His angry snort told her he hadn't thought of this.

"Do you have a boat?" he asked through clenched teeth.

She had to concede this point.

"No, I don't. But we could sell the horses in the next village and buy one."

A long silence ensued. She didn't want to push him any more than she already had, knowing he was wrestling with his determination to be the one to make decisions, and the fact that her plan was irrefutably smart and efficient.

"All right," he finally grumbled. "Here's what we'll do. When we reach the next village, we'll look for a campsite outside the settlement. Then we'll try to sell the horses and acquire a boat. Afterwards, we'll do a bit of fighting practice. I'm fairly sure we'll need it. Then we rest a few hours and use the boat in the middle of the night, when no one will see us bending."

She kept her reactions in check and nodded solemnly, trying her best to hide a grin he couldn't have seen anyway.

"That's a brilliant plan, Zuko."

He snorted again. "Don't patronize me."

She giggled, unable to take his bleak mood seriously. "Or what?"

After missing a few beats he said, "Or I'll bite you."

The playful remark had a disconcerting and unwanted effect on her. Her insides started churning again, demanding that he do just that. The memory of soft and searching lips on her skin, the gentle touch of an exploring hand, and the feeling of a firm male body next to hers shortened her breath.

"Oh," she said.

Zuko kicked the horse into a canter.

"The village can't be too far from here," he said, his voice sounding rather strained as well.

………

It was indeed only an hour's ride to the next small settlement. As Zuko had suggested, they found a secluded spot in the woods near the river, hid their gear and rode into the village.

People eyed them with open curiosity and no weariness. It seemed as if this village had been spared the horrors of the war.

The man who bought their ostrich-horses, paying a laughable price for them, pointed them to a merchant who would sell them a boat. They walked to the shop hand in hand, instinctively seeking physical confirmation of their connection.

The shop – if one could call it that – was a dingy heap of old fishing nets, half-broken boats, rusty fish-hooks, and other assorted junk that didn't look as if it could ever be used again.  
The shop's owner was a shrivelled old man with dark brown, sunburned skin, clad in a dirty undertunic that had certainly seen better days. He gave them a wide toothless smile and asked them what they needed.

While showing them about half a dozen boats that looked like they would sink the minute they hit water, he constantly eyed Zuko in a not too covert manner.  
Zuko tried to keep his temper in check, mostly because Katara was ever so discreetly squeezing his hand from time to time, but after what had to be the tenth head-to-toe inspection, he reached the end of his rope.

"What are you gaping at?" he thundered.

The man flashed him another grin.

"You look like one of the Dark Warriors," he said, unperturbed.

"Dark Warriors?" Katara questioned.

The old man's eyes widened and his mouth fell open.

"You haven't heard about the guardians of Tang-Ma-Hal?"

They shook their heads in unison.

The toothless smile was back full force.

Zuko groaned as they were offered a place to sit, obviously to hear all about those mysterious men.

"You must know that Tang-Ma-Hal isn't just the city of flowers. It is renowned for its beautiful gardens, that's right, but those gardens surround the real core of the city. The monument of eternal love, the Shrine of Mahal. A building of sheer white marble, as beautiful as no other in the world, built by one of our ancient kings to honour his beloved wife. To this day, many men and women travel to Tang-Ma-Hal to tie their knot in front of that Shrine, because legend says that all who do so will live in eternal love and happiness. Ba-Sing-Se might have been the head of the Earth Kingdom, but Tang-Ma-Hal is its heart."

"You wanted to talk about the Dark Warriors," Zuko cut in, not in the least interested in local legends.

"Not so impatient, young warrior," the man admonished and only Katara's soothing touch kept Zuko from lunging at him.

"About ten years ago, a mysterious and beautiful young woman came to the city in the company of about twenty strapping young men, clad in all-black uniforms. No one knew who she was, and she refused to tell anyone but the king."

His breath left Zuko in a rush, his heart stopping for a second and then hammering so wildly, it felt as if it wanted to beat its way out of his chest.  
Although he crushed Katara's hand in his, she still lifted her other to stroke his upper arm.  
Oblivious to his reaction, the old man went on.

"They brought her and her guards in front of the king. She offered the services of her men, and told him that he would need her help soon.  
"When the Fire-Nation army stood in front of the gates of Tang-Ma-Hal, they were greeted by the twenty dark guards. They proved to be powerful firebenders, loyal to no one but the strange woman. Declaring that Tang-Ma-Hal was already Fire-Nation territory, they convinced the Fire-Nation army to retreat. In truth, the king continued his reign, and bides his time until he can join forces with the Avatar to defeat Firelord Ozai."

Zuko could feel Katara's agitation but asked his question first.

"Doesn't he know that the Avatar was killed in Ba-Sing-Se?"

The old man smiled secretively.

"You, young man, don't believe that, and neither does the king."

"What about the mysterious woman?" Katara asked. "Does she live in the king's palace?"

The old man shook his head.

"She can't be found unless she wants to be. One can try to contact her through the Dark Warriors, but even they are elusive and seldom seen. The city worships them as saviours from Fire-Nation rule."

"Why did you think I was one of them?" Zuko asked.

The man pointed at his left eye. "Your scar. It's been said that some of the Dark Warriors have burns and scars."

Zuko nodded.

If the mysterious woman was his mother – which he didn't doubt in the slightest – and her personal guards had followed her with unwavering loyalty, the fights they had to fight for her would have been brutal.

"They're also all as tall, strong and handsome as you are. Many a maiden in Tang-Ma-Hal has set her cap at one of them, but rumour has it that they live like monks."

He grinned openly at Katara and added. "Which should have told me you're not one of them."

………

After Zuko had hinted that he might in a way be connected to the Dark Warriors, a suitable boat was swiftly found and they bought it at a reasonable price.

They used the boat to get back to the place where they wanted to spend the rest of the day.

The day was warm, but not too hot, and in the midst of the lush forest, the air was mild. From time to time, a fresh breeze ruffled the surface of the river Huang that meandered as a wide silvery band through the forest.

They had also bought a few fresh provisions and took a few bites to eat before shedding their outer clothes to start their training.

Just as they had learned while moving the boat a few days ago, they were at their most effective when they moved in complete sync, like dancers.

Since Zuko had already learned a number of waterbending moves, it was now Katara's turn to learn more about firebending. He taught her the basic stances and the guiding principle of firebending: quick, powerful thrusts and kicks; sharp, precise movements.  
But he couldn't teach her to create fire. She could bend it, turn it into whips and walls and bursts, but she could not _make_ fire. Even the most intense breathing exercises didn't help.

On the other hand, when she started to employ firebending techniques while waterbending, the results were astounding. The water-whips slashed through the air with deadly precision and so fast one barely noticed them until it was too late. Balls of water hit like cannonballs, propelled by sudden thrusting movements.

When Zuko tried to use waterbending moves with fire, he was equally successful. He could contain the fire's destructive force, could move the contained element like a sphere of water. His fire-whips flowed with the elegance of water.

They went endlessly through synchronous movements, experimenting with the flow of energy between them, learning what made them weak. Skin-to-skin contact, as it turned out, brought an additional bout of energy to both their fighting, so they developed a few moves they could perform with their hands clasped together.

When they fell down onto the grass near the riverbank, exhausted, the sun had turned big and orange in the sky, slowly descending.

For a while, they listened to each other's rapid breaths, and to the humming of life around them. The sky turned a deep blue; pink and orange clouds feathered over it, a spectacular play of light and colour.

"It's beautiful," Katara said.

Zuko turned to her and looked at her face, where tiny beads of sweat glistened around her nose and forehead, tendrils of her hair clinging to the damp skin. The colours of the sky reflected as bright flecks in the blue of her eyes. This sight was even more spectacular.

"Yes," he whispered, pushing a dark brown tendril out of her forehead. "It's beautiful."

As she turned to him, his heart soared at the beatific smile on her face.

He had to kiss her. He did not just want to kiss her, he had to, needed to.

Her lips tasted of salt and sweetness and he took her time tasting her, as her hand came up, caressing the maimed part of his face.

He drew back and pressed his hand over hers, holding it to his face, wondering what she saw when she looked at him. What his mother would see.

"Why doesn't the wound open during every meditation?" he asked, not really expecting an answer.

"I have a theory, but I'm afraid you'll find it silly."  
He chuckled. "After all that's happened to us, I doubt I'll ever find anything silly again."

Katara twirled a grass stem between her fingers.

"Every time I tried to heal your scar, it felt to me as if there's something wrong with it."

He bit back a cynical laugh. Of course there was something wrong with it. It was ugly, itchy, irritating and just very, very ugly.

"It feels as if it doesn't belong to you, as if it's another organism, like a fungus or a leech. It's full of hatred and malice, as if pure evil is clinging to your skin."

He couldn't suppress a shudder of revulsion at the graphic imagery.

"So why did it only break open twice?"

She smiled at him.

"Remember those two occasions?"

He frowned in concentration. "The first was in the crystal pond. We were in the ice, we kissed…" His eyes flew open. "Of course! We kissed. The stroke of lightning."

"Right," she said. "So I was thinking that something special happens when we kiss during meditation. We turn the spiritual connection into something more during those moments. We influence it with what we feel for each other. Emotionally and physically."

"I still don't see the point."

"What we feel is something good, something pure and beautiful. I think it attacks the scar."

Her expression was guarded as she looked at him, as if she expected him to burst out laughing any second.

"I think you're right."

The bright smile was back. "You really think so?"

"It makes sense," he said, getting up. "Let's try it. Besides, I think we should take a bath, we're sweaty."

"Last one in the water has to do the dishes," Katara said quickly and started toward the river before he could react.

The exhaustion from before totally forgotten, they splashed around in the shallow water, dunking each other, teasing each other with waterbending and shrieking and laughing like a couple of six-year olds. Except that he had never had so much fun at that age. Or at any other age, for that matter.

When Zuko came up from an especially vicious attack, spluttering and bent on revenge, he found Katara looking at him with a serene, happy smile. He forgot about revenge and took her in his arms, kissing her thoroughly.

His eyes closed and lost in their kiss, he could still feel the tendril of water forming a slim ring around them. Not breaking the kiss, he formed a band of fire. The two elements twisted and twined around each other. He was sure it looked rather stunning, but he couldn't be bothered to look.

Their kiss deepened as a flood of cosy warmth cascaded through him, sending burst of prickling awareness into the far reaches of his toes and fingertips.

And into his scar. There the fine tingling turned into a painful itching that he tried to ignore, concentrating on the velvety pressure of Katara's tongue against his own, of the feel of her half-naked, wet body pressed so intimately against his bare chest.

Like the last time, the itch turned into pulsing agony. His free hand curled into a tight fist on the back of Katara's neck.

Fight it, he screamed inwardly at the energy coursing through him. Fight!

Again, it was Katara who broke the kiss and the connection.

_I can feel your pain, it's excruciating._

He clawed at his face and his ear with both hands, wanting to rip it off him, the evil leech that feasted on his flesh.

_Zuko, stop it, let me help you._

Her gentle hands pried his clutching fingers from his wounds and he stared in shock at the blood on his hands.

Cool liquid whispered over his left ear and temple.

When she was done, her hand sunk to her side and she looked at him with an unidentifiable expression.

"Does it look worse than before?" he asked, only half-joking.

She took his left hand into her right and brought it to his face, showing him what he could not see. There was still some scarring on his cheek, but his temple and ear felt smooth and… normal.

"When all this is gone, you'll be…" She swallowed. "You'll be perfect."

Something pounded against his chest from inside, too big to be contained, too loud to be silenced.

"I… I am glad that you're here with me," he whispered, leaning toward her.

"I am glad, too."

He swept her into his arms. She looked at him intently while he carried her to their sleeping furs, didn't break eye-contact while he lowered her onto them as gently as possible.

She bent the water from their underwear and hair.

"Show me what to do about these," he whispered, his fingers trailing along the edges of the wrappings around her breasts.

Her fingers shook a little as she guided his hand to a fastening at the back of the piece. He gave it a slight tug, and the whole contraption loosened enough for him to pull it over her head. But before he could look at her, she had her arms crossed over her naked chest in an endearing gesture of bashfulness.

He bent down for a kiss, gently coaxing her lips to part for him. As their kiss gained depth and heat, she lifted her arms to wrap them around his shoulders, and he groaned into her mouth as he felt the tips of her naked breasts brushing against his chest.

"I want to see you," he whispered against her lips.

She looked at him, her eyes dark blue velvet.

After a breathless moment, she gave a barely perceptible nod.

He drew back and took his time letting his gaze wander from her face, down the curve of her neck and finally… finally to her breasts.

They were even fuller than he remembered, two perfect mounds of caramel coloured softness, the tips tightened into two dusky pebbles.

She started a little when he put his fingers onto the hollow of her throat. He drew them downwards along the valley between her breasts and then described a wide circle around one of them, barely brushing the sensitive underside.

"Breathe," he said with a smile.

An explosive gasp broke from her. She really had been holding her breath.

The circles grew tighter, spiralling over the petal-soft flesh. His senses delighted in the exquisite silken feeling under his fingertips. The sensation changed as he touched the puckered skin of her nipple. She moaned at the loss of contact when he withdrew his finger.

"More."

He curved his whole hand around one breast, oddly satisfied how perfectly it fit in his hand.

The tip tightened even more and his mouth watered at the sight. Without thinking, he bent down, closing his mouth hungrily over her flesh.

Her reaction was a deep moan. Her body almost came of the ground as she pushed against him in an instinctive, excitingly sensual reaction.

"Oh Zuko."

His new favourite sentence.

Instinct ruled his own actions as well when his lips closed even more firmly over her breast and started to suckle at the engorged tip.

She cried out and he instantly let go, surprised at what he'd done and somehow afraid he'd hurt her.

"Don't," she panted. "Don't stop."

He had never been good at obeying commands, but there was an exception to every rule. He bent down again and soon found out exactly which sounds of pleasure he could elicit from her with a deft stroke of his tongue, a squeeze of his fingers, or the barest hint of teeth nibbling at just the right places.

He couldn't get enough of hearing his name coming from her, between moans and gasps.

_Zu__ko, what is happening to me? I'm going crazy._

"It's all right, baby," he whispered against her heated skin. "You're aroused."

_Please… please help me end this._

"I will," he promised, not quite sure he could deliver. His former experiences proved to be rather inadequate as preparation for this.

When he had told Mai that it would be different with Katara, he had had no idea just how right he had been.

While his mouth was still caressing her breasts, his hand wandered down over the side of her body to her knees. It curved around her knees and wandered upward on the inside of her thighs.

At least it did until he gave a yelp of surprise, when his fingers were crushed between two well trained thighs, muscles surprisingly steely for such a soft creature.

He lifted his head and looked at her. Her pupils were dilated to almost black, her lips parted and her cheeks flushed scarlet.

On an impulse, he leaned down and started murmuring nonsensical things into her ear, punctuating them with tiny kisses. His thumb, the only part of his hand not pulverized between her legs, drew slow circles over her thighs. He showered soft kisses along her throat, gentling her with words and touches like one soothes a spooked mount.

Bit by bit, the vise grip on his hand loosened, and he suppressed a moan of relief as blood flowed back into the mangled appendage. He resumed his caresses of her throat and chest, while his hand crept upward with the utmost slowness, caressing and silently asking permission for every inch of conquered skin.

His arousal blazed through him in sharp spikes of need, his heart thudding furiously against his ribcage as his fingers reached their destination. He almost sobbed with joy as his fingers found warm wetness seeping through the rough linen that covered her most intimate area.

She jerked away from his fingers as soon as she felt him and he feared another attempt at crushing his hand. He looked at her again, letting his hand lie motionless against the juncture of her legs.

_Say no and I'll stop._

It would kill him, but he would do it. They had time; he did not need to push her when she was not ready.

_Don't stop._

He let out a whooshing breath he hadn't known he had been holding. To stop her thinking too hard about what was happening, he pressed his mouth against hers, swiping his tongue through her mouth in a greedy kiss. Her hand clutched at his hair and she forced him even closer to her, kissing him back with equal fervour.

As his fingers rubbed and circled over her flesh through her underwear, he was somehow thankful he knew what he was doing. Still, the underwear was a nuisance. And he would not find out how to patiently undo this one. He wriggled one finger under the fabric, ignited a short, hot flame and the material fell away, lightly scorched.

It didn't matter.

Nothing mattered anymore as his fingers searched through matted curls, down to pulsing, hot flesh, butter-soft and slick. His erection twitched painfully at the prospect of sliding into the warm softness.

Not now, he told his rampant anatomy. Not today. She's not ready.

But she was as ready as any woman could be who had never known a man's touch. Who would never know anything but his touch, he added grimly to himself. He was her first, and he would be her only. He'd kill anyone who even looked at her funny.

_Zuko, please._

With even, sure caresses, he stroked around the bundle of nerves that would bring her the ultimate pleasure, never quite touching it but coming close with every brush across her deliciously wet folds.

Her body writhed beneath him, and she pressed herself against his hand, constantly moaning now, her thoughts only an unintelligible, jumbled mess.

He was beyond words himself, his chest heaving while he watched with fascination the expression of utter abandon on her face. As his caresses became firmer, centring on the one spot that mattered, he started to worry that it might not be enough. He'd never done it simply like that, without being inside at the same time. Gritting his teeth against his insecurity, he decided that his fingers had to be enough.

Katara's nails dug into his scalp, the pain grounding him a little, making his own arousal controllable while he probed the entrance to her body with his forefinger.

She stilled completely. No sound could be heard but their desperate breathing. He pushed forward, his gut clenching painfully at the hot tightness that closed around his finger.

So small, so damn tight. He'd rip her apart if he ever tried more than that.

Katara started moving again, pressing toward his hand instead of drawing away, whimpering and pleading with him to do something, anything.

With his thumb, he pressed down hard on the tiny nub begging for his attention.

Her body stiffened, her breath hitched and her hips came off the ground.

And then she screamed.

* * *

tbc 

**A/N2: **In response to some of the fantastic reviews. There is _no such thing_ as a review that is too long. Honestly. Reading your thoughts takes no time away from my writing, it makes me write faster, it gives me ideas. I love each of you to pieces who gives me more than two words.


	13. Aftermath

**A/N:**Thanks everyone for the reviews. I'm delighted some of you recognized my reference to the beautiful Taj Mahal!

**A/N2:** Content warning! _**

* * *

Chapter 13: Aftermath** _

Ice, when cooled down to extreme temperatures, shatters into a million pieces at the slightest touch.

Katara felt like that had just happened to her, like she had exploded into tiny splinters of sharp pleasure. If it wasn't for the two strong arms tightly wrapped around her, she could not have held herself together on her own.

She shivered and clutched at his naked back, drawing him even closer, while the thrumming pulse between her legs sent wave after wave of delight through her, its intensity only slowly abating.

Thoughts stumbled around in her head, questions, so many.

She wanted to ask him what he had done to her, wanted to demand he'd never do it again, because she couldn't bear it. She wanted him to promise he'd do it again soon, because she didn't know how she could ever live without that. She didn't even know how she could have lived without it until now. How was she supposed to know that her body could do this, feel this?

Or was it more than just her body's reaction? Was it one of those inexplicable experiences they had through their connection?

Scraps of thoughts filtered into her brain. Zuko's thoughts, just as fractured as hers.

_Incredible… mine… beautiful… not yet… have to wait… mine forever._

Zuko's heart beat like a sledgehammer against her ear, in a frantic rhythm. She felt his unsuccessful attempts at calming his breathing. The aftershocks of the explosion still quivered through her, carrying her slowly into a pleasant drowsiness, but through all that a strange sense of knowing came to her. She suddenly understood that Zuko was tortured by the same driving urgency that had almost forced her into insanity before.

"Zuko," she whispered. "Let me help you."

_It'll be all right, baby. It'll go away._

Her hand trailed down his chest, and after a slight hesitation, she cupped the bulge that pressed against the thin fabric of his pants. He gave a pained groan and his hips moved closer against her hand.

"I don't think it will."

She explored the outline of the rigid shape, while Zuko inhaled through clenched teeth.

"What is that?" she asked.

One corner of his mouth gave a light twitch.

_You have a brother, __don't tell me you've never seen this._

Emboldened by their newfound intimacy, she loosened the drawstring of his trousers to feel the odd protrusion without the barrier of clothing. She bit back a gasp as her fingers encountered sweltering heat. Tentatively, her fingers explored silky skin that enclosed something that felt like a solid metal rod. She let her hand wander down the heavy shaft and encountered springy coarse hair at the base of it.

Zuko moaned, his appendage twitching eagerly in her hand.

"What I've seen is flaccid and rather unimpressive," she said. "Nothing like this."

Zuko made a weird choking noise and buried his face against her neck. His shoulders started shaking and she found to her alarm that his…uhm… organ shrank in her hand. For some reason, that upset her. She stroked it a while and was satisfied to find it growing again.

_To __tell the truth, this one is often flaccid, too._

"Hardly ever!" she protested vehemently. "Every time we're together, it pokes at me."

He caressed her neck with open-mouthed, sloppy kisses.

_It wants to be inside you._

That gave her pause.

"Oh," she said.

Little bits of thought swirled around in her head and started settling into place. The pulling she still felt in her core. The way her inner muscles had clenched so hungrily around his finger that had brought her such exceptional bliss. The curious emptiness it had left as he had pulled it from her body.  
Inside.

"Oh," she said a little louder when the implication became clear.

She closed her fingers a little more firmly around him, drawing another groan from deep within his chest. She tried to imagine the size, the length of this from the way he felt in her hand.

No, she thought to herself. This couldn't be right. This was utterly impossible. It would never fit.

"Oh," she said again, drawing her hands back, frightened out of her wits.

Zuko's moan at the loss of contact sounded almost like a wail.

_Please, __baby, please keep touching me._

She hesitated only for a split second. After the pleasure he had made her feel, touching him was the least she could do. Besides, feeling him in her hand, hot and pulsing with sensual energy, it was all she could do not to drift right back into insanity as well.

Her hands found him again, and he twitched as if happy to have her back.

_Like this?_

She did what she had done before, stroking along the whole length of him. His sounds of delight probably meant that she was doing something right.

_Yeessss, __faster …aaahhh._

She smiled at the fact that he was incoherent even in his thoughts. How exhilarating that she could pay him back for making her incoherent just a few minutes before. His breath was like harsh bursts of fire against her neck. For a panicked moment she feared it actually was. Then again, she was sure in her knowledge that he would not – could not – hurt her.

A drop of wetness rose to kiss her fingertips as she moved them over the velvety soft tip of him.

_Spread it._

She did, liking the feeling of the slick substance on smooth skin.

And then she stroked again. Harder and faster at his unspoken requests, until his body went rigid and his hands fisted in the blankets. A drawn shout ripped from his throat and he started convulsing, his hips jerking against her. With every thrust, deluges of warm, sticky fluid covered her hand and her bare stomach. Then he suddenly went limp against her, his breath short and laboured, his heart thudding so violently in his chest, it shook him with every beat.

After a few moments, his organ went soft in her hand and no amount of tender caresses could harden it again.

With a flick of her wrist, she gathered the fluid he had ejected into a floating sphere and carefully brought it from beneath the blanket to examine.

A whitish substance came into the light of the waning day, looking like no other bodily fluid she had ever seen.

"What is that?"

Zuko seemed to cringe at her question.

"My… uhm… my seed."

He nestled closer against her, his breathing slowly returning to normal. She knew instinctively that he had just gone through something similar to what she had experienced.

More pieces clicked into place inside her mind, and finally a complete picture emerged.

"Oh… ahh!"

She felt his lips curve into a smile against her cheek.

"I knew you'd figure it out eventually."

The white sphere floated peacefully above her and Katara tried to imagine the possibilities it held. She saw a little girl in her mind's eye, with raven hair and blue eyes.

"What…uhm," she stammered.

_It doesn't need a proper burial_.

The sphere floated toward the river and dissolved in the stream, while Katara decided to ignore the teasing in his thoughts.

"You could've explained it to me," she said seriously.

"You didn't want me to, remember?"

"I did not see the connection."

He sighed.

"I think you were right. There is none. A man can get his seed inside a woman, can get her with child, and not once would they need to feel for each other what we feel. It can even be painful for her and disgusting for him, and still there would be a child." He propped himself up on one elbow and looked down at her with almost frightful intensity. "What we have, Katara, is something completely different."

She put her hand to his neck and drew him down for a long, passionate kiss.

"But you could get me pregnant, right?"

"Yes, that's why we have to be careful and can't do… certain things."

"You mean you can't be inside me."

He grimaced and nodded.

"I don't think it'll work anyway," she said, squashing a twinge of irrational disappointment.

Gentle fingertips danced along her face, tracing her lips. "It will hurt the first time," he whispered, "but it will work."

Her legs clamped together of their own accord, and he chuckled at her reaction.

"I won't take anything you're not ready to give, Katara," he said softly. "That's a promise."

She drew him down to her again, using his shoulder as a pillow. His heart beat curiously slowly; his breath was calm and even.

And even though so many thoughts still stumbled over one another in her head, she fell asleep.

………

The morning sun drew fiery, colourful pictures behind Zuko's closed eyelids. His body revelled in the invigoration the rising sun brought it. His body also delighted in the after-effects of a good night's sleep after a very satisfying sexual experience.

His hand lazily groped for Katara, but he found himself alone under the blanket. His senses, impossibly fine-tuned to her presence, told him that she was nearby.

Rolling to his side, he opened his eyes and saw her standing at the river-bank, watching the rising sun.

Her hair flowed freely down her back, her hands were crossed over her naked chest and only a scrap of white linen covered her from the waist down. A fresh morning breeze ruffled a few strands of her thick hair and she shivered a little.

His breath hitched in his chest at this vision of natural beauty. A mixture of awe and possessiveness gripped his heart at the memory of how she had let him touch her, of her enthusiastic, artless reaction, her complete, trusting abandon.

He got up, fastened his pants and walked up to her on naked feet.

They both sighed in unison as his arms came around her waist, and he drew her against his chest. A sound of happy contentment.

"Good morning," he whispered.

She leaned her head against him and craned her neck to look into his eyes. "Good morning."

Her slightly parted lips were an invitation he couldn't decline. Slowly leaning down, he pressed the softest of kisses against her lips.

"We've overslept," she said quietly, turning back to the sun.

"It was worth it."

He nuzzled the side of her neck, basking in the scent emanating from her warm skin.

She absently stroked over his arms.

"Everything has changed now between us, hasn't it?" she asked after a while.

He was about to say no, to tell her that they had merely grown just a bit closer, but he too could feel that something was different today.

"You have changed, Katara," he said at last. "You know now. You understand."

She nodded. "I suppose I have. It's like I have grown up."

He snickered into her hair and she turned around, glaring.

"What?"

He couldn't help but fix his gaze on her breasts that were only barely covered by her arms. And what he could not see his memory filled in nicely.

"You've certainly grown," he purred, flicking his thumbs over the sides of the softly swelling flesh.

Katara swatted his chest but he could hear the laughter in her mind.

"You've scorched my underwear," she said, with a scowl that looked hilariously fake.

He drew her closer. "You didn't seem to mind at the time."

Instead of answering him, she unfolded her arms from her chest and wrapped them around his shoulders, drawing him to her for a kiss. The tips of her breasts burned against his skin and her kiss was hungry and determined.

Need rose in him like a tide, his erection pressing noticeably against her belly. It was a relief that she knew now what this was about. And how to help him out of his plight.

He moaned softly at the memory of her hands on him. Her inexperience, something that not too long ago he would have considered a disadvantage, had made it so much better for him. The thought that she had never touched anyone else this way, that every sensation, every experience was new for her, had almost been enough to send him over the edge.

"I don't think we'll go anywhere today," he murmured in between kisses, his hands greedily roaming every inch of exposed skin.

Katara drew back abruptly.

"But we have to," she said, sounding as if she wanted him to contradict her.

He wanted to, he wanted nothing more than to tell her it was all right, that they could stay here and enjoy each other for as long as they wanted. But they both knew that would be an illusion. A dangerous one.

Bloody, damned war!

He nodded curtly and turned on his heel, stalking back to get dressed. He couldn't look at her anymore or he would do something they both might come to regret.

If there was one thing worth fighting for, then it was that a young man like him would have all the time in the world to be with the girl he… liked.

When this war was over, they would be in a room with a large bed, a room where no one would interrupt them, save for serving them food when they needed nourishment. He would keep Katara there for at least a week until he was good and ready to face the world again. Well, make that two weeks.

They dressed in a hurry and without saying a word, but when everything was packed and they were ready to go, Katara turned to him.

"Are you mad at me?"

He tried to give her an encouraging smile, but knew it was probably more of a grimace.

"No, of course not," he said, trying another grin. "I'm mad at the situation at large."

A timid smile lifted the corners of her mouth.

"Me too."

The strange tenderness that he felt for her from time to time bloomed again, squeezing his heart.

"I have something for you," he said hoarsely, fumbling for the well-concealed compartment in his undertunic. As he felt the smooth surface of what he was looking for, he smiled at her. And this time, his smile was genuine.

He pulled the necklace out of its hiding place and held it out to her.

"I know it won't make up for the underwear, but—"

"My necklace!" Katara said with a gasp of surprise but didn't move to take it from him. "I thought you left it in the Palace."

"I've always had it with me, just like before."

At the mention of 'before', Katara coloured a little for a reason he couldn't fathom.

"Won't you take it?" he asked, puzzled.

Her smile turned sultry.

"I thought you would put it around my neck," she said, her tone dropping into a purr that sent his blood thundering south.

"Only if you let me tie you to a tree first," he replied, matching her tone.

Her colour turned from pink to scarlet, skipping a few shades of red in the process. Her tongue darted out of her mouth for a second, wetting her lips.

"Well…"

Never before had one innocuous word knocked down all his defences, all the powers of his steely will. If Katara wouldn't save this situation and fast, he couldn't be held responsible for the consequences.

She reached out and closed his fingers around the cool blue stone.

"Maybe later," she said. "Keep it safe for me."

Then she turned around to the boat.

Later, he repeated in his head. You can count on it.

………

Their trip to Tang-Ma-Hal took considerably longer than fifteen minutes. The river meandered in wide curves through the land, and was littered with rocky rapids, floating tree trunks and other assorted obstacles that only rarely allowed them to plough along at full speed.

They reached the outer settlements of Tang-Ma-Hal in the late afternoon, and even though they were hungry and tired, the glittering white domes of the Shrine of Mahal, visible in the far distance, made them gasp with wonder.

Although they both knew the bustle of a big city from their time in Ba-Sing-Se, this city was a challenge all by itself. Where Ba-Sing-Se had been teeming with refugees, Tang-Ma-Hal was overrun by tourists.

The outer ring of the city was plastered with signs of all sizes, announcing in bold, screaming letters where one was to find the most delicious food, the best accommodations, the cheapest hotel rooms. Tour guides loudly offered their services to anyone who walked past, merchants sold all sorts of memorabilia: the Shrine of Mahal in little sculptures of all sizes, painted on silk scarves and teacups, on tunics and hats. Katara was certain that she had even seen a chamber pot adorned with the building and the words, 'Greetings from Tang-Ma-Hal'.

Although they were only one among thousands of couples filing into the city, Katara was acutely aware of people staring at them.

Never before had she noticed that Zuko was quite so tall. He stood about half a head higher than any other man around him. With his unkempt, dark, shoulder-length mane and the partially healed scar on his face, he was indeed a sight to behold.

Zuko didn't seem to notice how people looked at him, or if he did, he didn't let it show.

He's used to this kind of attention, Katara thought morosely, he's a prince, after all.

_I thought we were over this._

"Stop reading my thoughts," she said, not quite as angry as she should be.

Still, she had to find out how to shield the thoughts she didn't want him to hear.

"Besides," she went on, "I've always wanted to be with a prince, you know."

He turned to her, clearly intrigued. "You have?"

Katara nodded and was about to tell him, when a portly man, about Katara's height, bowed to them.

"My name is Ling Fei. May I offer my services to the esteemed guests of our beautiful city?"

He was much better dressed than most of the men running around between the arriving tourists, trying to offer assistance and guidance to a hotel where they would not have to pay exorbitant prices for a flea-infested bed in a room directly above the sewers.

Zuko eyed him suspiciously, but they were both tired and hungry enough to follow just about anyone who didn't look as if he wanted to rob them.

"What will your services cost us?" he asked.

Ling Fei looked seriously offended.

"I am the proud owner of a hotel very near the gardens, with a beautiful view of the Shrine. I offer my establishment only to the most distinguished guests of our beautiful city and I do so only for the price they pay for their accommodations, which are – if I may say so myself – the best you can find here."

"What makes us so distinguished?" Katara asked, now suspicious herself.

Ling Fei smiled at them secretively. "You are a Dark Warrior. I would be honoured to count you among my guests."

Katara was shocked speechless, but Zuko played along with admirable cool.

"What gave me away?"

"Your bearing and stature," Ling Fei whispered conspiratorially, "Forgive me, revered warrior, but you are hardly inconspicuous."

"I hadn't intended to be," Zuko said calmly. "So where is that hotel of yours?"

Ling Fei bowed deeply and motioned for them to follow him. He led them to a carriage, drawn by four ostrich-horses.

If the carriage was any indication to what they might expect from the hotel, they would spend their night in luxury.

Zuko relaxed with a sigh against the velvet cushions of the carriage as if he had no care in the world, while Katara listened anxiously to Ling Fei nattering on about the beauty of the city in general, and the magnificence of the Shrine in particular. He promised to find them a qualified tour guide first thing in the morning, and repeatedly inquired after any other wishes and plans they might have.

After about half an hour, the carriage came to a stop and Zuko helped her out while a few green liveried boys scurried around them like mouse-weasels to help them with their backpacks.

Ling Fei indicated the wide area around them with a proud gesture.

"Welcome," he said, "to the 'Garden of Luxury'."

Even Zuko seemed to be impressed by the sheer beauty of the sight around them. They stood on a slight rise in the ground, and beneath them stretched a wide area with well-kept lawns, colourful flowerbeds, little streams and quiet ponds. Like white specks on the green, bungalows with wide airy porches stood amidst the greenery, far enough away from each other to secure absolute privacy.

"Perfect," Zuko said.

"For our unmarried guests," Ling Fei explained, "we have separate quarters in the main house that are of equal comfort—"

"We won't stay in separate quarters," Zuko snapped.

Katara breathed a sigh of relief. The thought of being separated from him was physically painful. Besides, she still had some exploring to do.

Sweat beaded on Ling Fei's forehead.

"But—"

"We are married," Katara assured the man, who looked like he was nearing a mental breakdown at the thought of any impropriety taking place on his premises, even if committed by a revered warrior.

Ling Fei signalled to the mouse-weasels and they scurried back toward them, and after a short command from Ling Fei, carried their luggage down to one of the bungalows.

They followed Ling Fei down the path, and after he had showered them with some more pleasantries, he finally left them alone.

"I am not sure if it's a good idea to live like this, Zuko," she said.

"We can afford it."

"It's not just about the money. We're far too obvious, maybe that will hurt our search."

He sighed.

"Apparently, I do stick out like a sore thumb whatever we do, so we might as well take advantage of people thinking I am one of the Dark Warriors."

"I have a bad feeling about this."

"Do you rather want to sleep in a filthy, rat-infested hole?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

She shuddered. "No."

Zuko gave her a quick kiss and led her to the house's entrance.

"Let's take a look at our new campsite."

She laughed as they stepped into the entryway, but then gasped as she saw two strange people staring at them.

It took Katara a few seconds to realize they were looking into a mirror. Hands clasped together, they walked closer.

Ever since they had left the Palace, Katara hadn't seen her own reflection. She could braid her hair without needing a mirror and she wasn't vain. But now she could hardly identify the woman looking back at her. Instead of a sixteen year old girl, she saw a young woman, tall enough to reach almost to Zuko's chin. Her features had lost the last traces of childhood, her breasts curved full beneath her tunic. And although she was still very slender, her hips flared a bit more than they had before.

After getting over the first shock, she looked at Zuko, who seemed equally fascinated with his reflection. She had seen him change gradually over the last days, so the difference didn't seem so jarring to her, but now that she thought about it, he truly looked much different than just a few days before.

Not only had his shoulders broadened and his arms and chest expanded with steely muscle, he also seemed taller, his features more chiselled, more manly.

He lifted one hand and carefully touched the remnants of his scar. A few purple patches still marred his cheek, but it was a far cry from how he had looked before.

"Who are we?" he asked softly.

"I don't know. Looks like we have both grown up."

He shook his head and turned to her.

"I don't trust this mirror," he said with a smile. "I don't feel like I am that guy. He looks like my father."

She smiled, glad he had broken the eerie spell.

"We'll find another mirror," she said as she dragged him toward the living room.

It was tastefully decorated, smelling of the fresh flowers that adorned the vases throughout the room. An invitingly soft couch stood in front of an unlit fireplace.

"Oh, this is so beautiful," Katara said, only to find that her audience was gone.

"Katara, look what I found!" Zuko called from somewhere else.

She walked to where he leaned against a doorframe and smiled at what she saw.

Four-poster, beige canopy and drapes all around, a sturdy frame, lots of pillows of different sizes, a finely embroidered bedspread already turned down, and silken sheets.

"A bed," she said.

He turned to her with a wide, happy grin.

"A bed."

* * *

tbc 

Hope you enjoyed it, please review.


	14. Luxury

**_A/N: _**Content warning!!! (Please notice the three exclamation marks.)

_**

* * *

Chapter 14: Luxury**_

Zuko knew Katara was stalling.

At first she had seemed delighted at the sight of the bed, but as soon as he had taken her hand and tried to lead her there, it had suddenly occurred to her that they were sweaty and unkempt and should take a bath first. And – of course – they needed to eat. No need, she had pointed out with a telling look at him, to have growling stomachs interrupt them at a critical moment.

He had given the bed a regretful look, and had suggested that he go first, knowing from experience that girls needed ages to get ready.

After scrubbing himself squeaky clean, combing assorted pieces of Earth-Kingdom flora and fauna out of his hair, and washing it thoroughly, he stepped in front of the bathroom mirror and looked at himself. It would take some getting used to this younger version of his father looking back at him.

In addition to a mountain of fluffy towels, the bathroom also offered two silk bathrobes and one pair of drawstring pants that reached to his knees. He put the bathrobe back on the shelf after unsuccessfully trying to put it on. All Earth-Kingdom men had to be skinny weaklings.

Katara's gaze immediately fixed on his naked chest when he stepped out of the bathroom, and the pink in her cheeks was so telling, he didn't need their mental bond to know her thoughts.

And he liked her way of thinking.

She carefully skirted around him and locked the bathroom behind her, after telling him to order some food, because she was at a loss as to what to choose.

During the weeks he had spent in Ba-Sing-Se, he had learned which Earth-Kingdom dishes were delicious. He rang for the butler, who hastened to him only seconds later, and ordered a bit of everything.

As the food arrived, smelling spicy and appetizing, he had to admit that bathing and eating first wasn't such a bad idea after all.

Deciding not to use the formal dining-table, he carried the food to the low table in front of the fireplace, so that they could lounge on the couch while eating. They hadn't eaten at a proper table for days now; there was no reason they had to start with that tonight.

With a flick of his wrist, he started a low fire in the fireplace and stretched out comfortably on the couch.

Drowsiness settled over him as he lay there, but, as he heard the bathroom door creak open, he was wide awake again.

Katara had her hair pulled back in a ponytail, and wore one of the hotel bathrobes. It reached down to her ankles, where he glimpsed matching satin slippers.

He smiled at her encouragingly.

She averted her eyes.

"The food smells wonderful," she said, circling around the couch just out of reach of his arm, and then sat down in a single armchair.

He frowned, trying to find out what had prompted her changed behaviour, her sudden anxiety. Surely he hadn't given her any reason to be afraid of him.

While they ate, Katara complimented his choice of food and remarked on its deliciousness, but otherwise they were silent.

"So, Katara," he said in an attempt to bridge the rift that seemed to gape between them. "You owe me a story."

She looked so flustered, he had to chuckle.

"About how you always wanted to be with a prince."

"Oh… that," she said slowly.

Brushing a few invisible breadcrumbs from her robe, she settled back into the chair. With some satisfaction he noted that the thin fabric slid back from her body to reveal a generous amount of a long shapely leg. She caught him staring, but instead of reacting like he had expected in her current mood, hastily covering herself properly again, she moved just a tiny bit and the fabric slipped to expose even more skin.

Tendrils of heat began to spread through him as he remembered the feeling of this skin under his hands.

"Gran-Gran had this book which she would read to us every night when we were kids," Katara began. "A really old book, and the stories were so fabulous, with all sorts of fantastic creatures: horses, unicorns, ogres, dwarves, elves and fairies. In almost every story, a handsome, brave prince came to rescue a beautiful princess from a dreadful situation. He fought dragons, cut through thorny hedges and kissed her awake, or he just recognized that under the filthy clothes of a housemaid was the woman he truly loved."

A strange longing was in her eyes, and he could guess at what these stories had meant to her.

"I always imagined that, one day, my prince would come for me. Riding up on a white mount, whisking me away from my boring life, showing me places I could not even imagine, taking me on adventure after adventure. I hoped he would love me just like I loved him and that we would live happily ever after."

Heavy dread held his heart in a tight grip as he saw her eyes moisten, her gaze directed to a place where he could not follow her.

"And he came," she whispered. "He was a prince to his people, to all people on this earth, and he came on a white flying bison. He took me away to adventures and greatness. He showed me the world, and he gave me his heart. I have known for a long time that he loves me."

His heart stopped beating, but he had to ask. He knew it was like placing the tip of a knife to his own throat and asking her to cut away, but he had to.

"Do you love him?"

She seemed startled by his words, and he saw how she struggled to get back to the reality of the here and now. Her eyes misted over as she looked into his eyes. She had to know how much she was hurting him.

"Yes, I love him."

He closed his eyes, fighting the tears that threatened to spill. There was one thing he would have begged her for had he known sooner what it was. Now that he knew that it was her love that he needed, she told him it could never be his. Everything they shared was meaningless now, a forced closeness that would torture him with glimpses of what could never be.  
He wanted to be angry with her for telling him now of all times, but he couldn't even muster the energy for that anymore. It bled out of him with every beat of his wounded heart.

"But I don't love him the way he loves me. I love him like Sokka, as if he were my little brother."

Fine tremors of relief ran over his skin, carving deep fractures into the emotionless exterior that he forced himself to present.  
Suddenly, he desperately needed to change the topic of conversation. This night should have been about exquisite pleasure, not emotional pain. He needed to get a grip on his feelings.

"Since we are on the topic of princes, do you know how one recognizes a Fire-Nation prince, a true member of Fire-Nation royalty?"

She lifted her gaze to his and smiled.

"Your eyes. I have only met three people with golden eyes, and they were all Fire-Nation royalty."

He smiled back, still inwardly trembling. She called his eyes golden, where most people just referred to them as yellow.

"There's another sign," he said. "The males of our family also have the breath of fire."

"Why is that?"

He folded his hands behind his head, looking at the ceiling.

"Legend says we are descended from dragons."

"Please tell me," she said eagerly, leaning forward in her armchair. "I love legends."

"In ancient times, on the volcanic islands of what is now Fire-Nation territory, dragons lived in peaceful harmony with the few humans that populated the islands, peasants with no special skills.

"The dragons lived in caves high in the mountains, where the females laid their eggs and cared for their offspring. Because dragons have hearts and souls like humans, they mate for life.

"And so a dragon named Zu mated in this way with a she-dragon named La. They were a young couple and fiercely in love with each other, but Zu felt he couldn't express his feelings the way he wanted to, he felt as if his heart – the biggest organ in a dragon's body – would burst with what he could not put into words or actions. Restlessly he roamed the skies over the islands, until, one day, he saw a couple of humans making love on a deserted beach. He watched them kissing, touching, caressing, giving and taking exquisite pleasure, whispering sweet nothings into each other's ears. His heart filled with longing and envy at the way humans could show their love.

"He found a mighty sorcerer who gave him the power to change himself and his mate La into human form at night. But the sorcerer warned Zu that once one of them failed to turn back into a dragon before the sun stood full in the sky, the spell would be broken, and they could never change forms again. The love-crazed Zu was sure it would never come to that and hurried away to find his mate.

"Night after night, Zu and La turned into humans and made love until the sun rose in the sky, and then they changed back into dragon form. But one morning, only Zu changed back while La stood there in her human form, her eyes anxiously on the half-circle that slowly rose over the horizon. Angrily hissing at her, Zu tried to force her into changing, but she just couldn't. The sun rose higher, and tears of anguish and happiness streamed down La's face as she suddenly understood why she could not change. While in human form, La had conceived a human child, and because of that child her body refused to transform.

"She tried to tell him, but Zu – being a dragon – could not understand her words. Only a tiny piece of the sun was still hidden behind the horizon when he roared in outrage and pain.

"As the sun stood full and round in the morning sky, it shone down on a human woman, tightly wrapped in the scaly coils of a male dragon, both of them weeping hot tears. Legend says it was the first and only time a dragon ever cried.

"Nine months later, La gave birth to a baby boy. The boy had his father's yellow eyes and his ability to breathe and bend fire. With his superior abilities, and protected by his father and all of their dragon kin, he soon became ruler over the peasants of the neighbouring islands. He became the first Firelord. He taught his subjects firebending and led them to wealth and prosperity."

Hushed silence fell over the room, only interrupted by the crackling of the fire in the fireplace. Zuko stared at the ceiling, still trying to tame his raging emotions. As a child, that old tale had never affected him in any way, other than that he thought it pretty awesome that his ancestors had been dragons. But on recounting the legend now he could feel Zu's pain as if it was his own.

Katara stared at him with awe and wonder.

"Of course it's just a legend," he said to make light of it. "For all I know—"

"No," Katara cut him off. "It's not just a legend."

She rose to her feet and slowly walked over to where he lay stretched out on the couch. Sitting down beside him, she put soft fingertips on his face and traced the lines of his brows. Her fingertips travelled over the bridge of his nose, down to his lips.

Then she cupped his face with both her hands and leaned closer, so close, he hoped she might kiss him. Her hands wandered down the sides of his neck, and he hissed when unexpected, sharp pleasure tore through him as her fingers probed the bite-mark on his neck.

With soothing pressure, she let her hands roam over his shoulders and down his arms, then back up again, stroking over his upper chest, her fingers digging possessively into his muscles.

"You are the most magnificent creature I have ever seen, Zuko," she breathed, leaning closer, her lips almost touching his. "I don't doubt for a second that you are a descendant of a magical beast that gave you your strength and your beauty."

As a prince, Zuko had learned early on how to deal with all sorts of flattery. But he had no defences against her. Katara was not the kind to lie or flatter, not even for a good reason; there was no false bone in her body. Her words quite simply left him breathless.

"Katara," he whispered, but was cut off when her lips softly descended on his.

They kissed for a while, with her leaning over him, half-sitting, her hands still roaming his chest with maddeningly sensual caresses.

_We __could move this to the bed. _

He half expected her to balk at the suggestion, and was therefore a little surprised when she slipped her hand into his and helped him to his feet, almost dragging him behind her on the way to the bedroom.

A single, scented candle burned on one of the bedside tables, emanating a faint orange glow and a heavy fragrance of cinnamon and amber. He moved his hand to light a few more candles, but Katara stilled his movement by pushing him flat on his back, looking down on him.

"What was his name?" she asked. "The son of Zu and La, what was his name?"

Zuko winced. He had omitted that part of the story on purpose.

"He was called child of Zu. In the ancient language of the Fire-Nation that'd be…"

Katara smiled and finished for him. "Zuko."

She kissed him before he could say anything else, and in the heat of her kisses rational thought melted away. Gone was her anxiety from before, as if her taking charge of this encounter had squashed whatever fears she might have had. She dragged her soft lips down the side of his neck, nipping at the over-sensitive bite-mark, sending another bolt of pleasure directly down to his groin.

"It changes," she whispered before kissing the mark again with much the same result.

He had noticed the changes in the mark, too. Parts of it started healing like any other bruise, but a few lines had turned a dark purple, almost looking as if it was turning into a circular sign.

His train of thought came to an abrupt halt as Katara's exploring mouth wandered over his chest, and her teeth slightly scraped over one nipple.  
At his moan, she repeated the action, and when she lifted her face to his again her eyes shone with female pride at having such power over him.

He reached toward the sash of her robe, but she drew back from his searching grasp.

_Can't…__ can't take much more of this, _he silently pleaded with her as she resumed her scorching kisses.

She ventured even further down, and when she reached his navel, playfully circling it with the tip of her tongue, he shouted hoarsely and gripped the bars of the headboard above him with both hands to keep himself from grabbing her and ending the delicious torture she was inflicting on him.

When she looked at him again, the flickering light of the candle created no reflection in the bottomless darkness of her dilated pupils.

"I want to see you," she whispered.

An uncharacteristic bout of insecurity swept through him as she hooked her fingers under the waistband of his pants and began to tug them down. He watched her intently, desperately wishing for more light, when she discarded the clothing beside the bed and let her eyes languidly wander over his body, her gaze lighting on the erection jutting out from between his slightly spread thighs.

She reached towards him with trembling fingers, and, while he wanted to sob with relief that deliverance from his painful arousal was near, a tiny movement caught his eyes.

He might have missed it had he blinked, but he had not imagined the tiny flick of her tongue across her lips as she eyed him without the slightest sign of fear or repulsion.

His cock twitched in helpless arousal at the sight, as he fought the fantasies that threatened to rush to the surface of his thoughts.

One of her hands closed firmly around him, stroking too lightly to bring him anywhere near his release, but firm enough to drive him mad.

With a curiosity that he might have found endearing if his blood wasn't boiling his veins, she fondled the soft pouch beneath his shaft, causing his lust to batter with renewed ferocity against the thin walls of his self-control.

Because he had squeezed his eyes tightly shut against the barrage of sensations, he noticed too late when she took her exploring a bit farther.

Soft, cool lips gently pressed against the tip of his burning flesh, ripping a pained shout from his chest. His hips bucked against her in helpless supplication.

His eyes flew open in time to see her draw back.

"Did I hurt you?" she whispered.

_No-no-no… please… please._

A barrage of pictures flooded his mind, and Katara's eyes widened with shock.

_You don't have to_, he tried to communicate._ Just touch me like last night._

Her eyes narrowed a little, and a dangerous glint of determination glittered in their depths.

Agni help him.

She bent down again, and he lost the will to battle anything, as the tip of her tongue slowly circled the engorged head of his cock.

He lost his knowledge about how to function on a normal level, how to breathe, how to think, how to remember even so much as his own name, as her velvety lips closed around him, lightly suckling.

It was too much. Too much sensation, mixed with emotions he had never before experienced, swirling like a maelstrom of molten lava through his veins, throbbing and burning in the place that just received the most intimate kiss possible.

With Mai, he had always been in control of his actions, had always managed to give her a fair warning when he was about to come, so she could pull back.

He tried. With scraps of thoughts, gasped words, and an ineffective tug at her shoulder. But whether it was her inexperience or just plain stubbornness, she didn't move, didn't cease her ministrations until his last wall of control crumbled to dust.

Silvery dots sparkled behind his closed lids. His fists tightened around the bars of the headboard. Sound receded until he only heard the driving drumbeat in his ears. Fiery bliss rioted through his bloodstream, burning away everything that was no ally to pleasure: the sorrow, the grief, the anger. It woke the wild creature inside of him that throve on pure sensation, on pure feeling, and it came to life with a mighty roar.

With every surge of his seed spilling from him, his heart filled and grew until it was the biggest organ in his body, but still too small to contain his joy, his gratefulness… his love.

Just as he thought things couldn't possibly feel any better, he felt surrounded by cool liquid, softly soothing the violent fire in him, bringing him down from the raging heights of his ecstasy.

It felt like meditation. In fact, it was meditation. Water and fire.

The thought of fire gave him pause, and his senses began working properly all at once.

The air was thick with smoke that stood in grey plumes in the air. The bed around him was slightly damp and cool.

"What happened?" he asked, out of breath.

Katara gave him a lopsided grin.

"You set the bed on fire."

He wriggled his fingers and felt the remnants of the wooden bars crumbling to ashes under his hands. His gaze darted back to her, panicked.

"Did I hurt you?"

She smiled, shaking her head. "You could never hurt me," she said with such a confidence, that he forgot their surroundings and basked in the wealth of his newfound feelings once again.

He lifted a hand to her face and traced her bottom lip with his thumb.

"That was…" He trailed off, trying in vain to describe what she had made him feel.

His thumb found a bit of sticky wetness clinging to her lip. He cringed at the thought of what he had forced on her.

"I'm sorry about… not stopping you in time."

She looked at him, a frown of incomprehension steep between her eyebrows.

"Didn't you like it?"

He gaped, completely incredulous that she could even ask that question.

"Of course I did!" he said forcefully and made a sweeping gesture around himself. "Couldn't you tell?"

She smiled.

He tried again. "But isn't it… I don't know… disgusting?"

The steep wrinkle between her brows was back.

"No," she said defensively, but then her expression softened as if something suddenly occurred to her. She put her hand against the side of his face and stroked him tenderly.

"It tastes like tears," she said swiping her thumb over the corner of his eyes were apparently a tear from before had lingered. "It tastes like you. And I love you."

At that, his heart couldn't contain the feelings anymore that had steadily built up in him over the past days. Never in his life had he felt so welcome, so unconditionally accepted. So loved.

He did not fight the tears that streamed down his face.

"I love you, Zuko," she said, as if a bit surprised at her own words.

In that moment, he found he had a new favourite sentence.

………

To Katara, romantic love had always seemed a fickle emotion. Ever since she had become aware of Aang's feelings for her, she had analyzed what was in her heart, had tried to make sense of the ambiguous feelings she had for him, had tried to give them the label that would make Aang so happy. Sometimes, his unmasked adoration woke a faint echo in her, and the fact that he seemed to be everything she had ever dreamed of had her despising herself for being so indecisive.

Only there wasn't anything faint about what she felt for Zuko, nothing fickle or indecisive.

The feeling was there, pulsing through her heart like her own blood, spilling as assured words out of her mouth before she had even time to think about them. But deep down she knew she didn't need to think about them, there was nothing to think about something that was there like an undeniable fact, something that was so tangible, so real, so necessary.

"I love you, Zuko," she said, testing again the sound and feel of the words and found she liked them. Liked to say them, liked to see what it did to him to hear them.

He smiled and cried and looked so unbelievably happy, like someone who had been starved of being loved for far too long, someone who could not be whole without love.

The passionate nature of the descendants of the dragons seemed to make them dependent on feelings, good or evil, and they lived them to the extremes. Apparently only love – or hate – were emotions big enough to fill a dragon's heart.

She was still contemplating his emotions, when his arms wrapped firmly around her and he brought his mouth close to her ear.

"Thank you, Katara," he whispered with a sigh.

His arms still around her, he rolled her over to the undamaged side of the bed, and started kissing her without giving her time to gather her thoughts.

At his untamed ardour, her fears from before started to resurface and she found herself tensing up beneath him. While he still kissed her, one of his hands wandered to the sash of her bathrobe, with the unmistakable intention of getting her as naked as he was.

Panicked, she put her hand over his, and pulled away from his kiss.

"Maybe we should go to sleep," she suggested, trying to sound calm and reasonable. "We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow."

His eyes narrowed, and she could've sworn that his body turned a few degrees colder.

"Are you afraid of me, Katara?" he asked in a tone that – if she had been afraid of him – would have sent her screaming in terror. "I promised you I would never—"

"No, no… no, I'm not afraid of you," she hastened to assure him.

The look in his eyes softened a little, and the hand that had tried to undress her came up to her face to lightly stroke her face.

"Then what is it, baby?"

She sighed. There was no way she could put in words what it was that bothered her. She barely understood it herself.

"I'm insecure," she tried.

It sounded wrong, even to herself, and if Zuko's knitted eyebrows were any indication, he didn't believe her either.

"It's just, I wonder how I compare. If I… am good enough."

This was horrible.

Confusion deepened the wrinkles on his forehead.

"How you compare to what?"

"To whom," she corrected. "To… to her. To Mai."

His expression froze, and for a second, he didn't move a single muscle. He didn't even breathe. Katara wasn't sure she did.

Then he chuckled humourlessly. "You can't be serious."

She didn't answer, aware that she had made a bad situation just that much worse.

"I love you, Katara," he said, as if stating a fact that should have been crystal clear to her. As if he had said it a thousand times already, even though it was the first time he did.

Her heart leapt despite the utter painfulness of the whole situation and she couldn't stop the happiness from flashing over her face.

"I love you," he repeated insistently. "There is no comparison to what happened before. None whatsoever. And if I could forbid you to think about that, I would. In fact, I do. Don't ever think about it again." He leaned down to her, breathing a kiss over her lips. "I love you, you stupid girl," he whispered hoarsely against her mouth. "And you're mine and nothing else matters."

His hand once again groped for her sash, and once again, almost like a reflex she couldn't suppress, she stopped him.

She could feel his _whys _pounding against her mind, trying to draw an answer out of her where she had none to give.

He rested his forehead against hers, breathing hard, his hand resting motionlessly over the knot of her sash.

"No lies, remember?" he said softly after a while. "You'll hurt us both."

Was it a lie if she herself didn't know the answer? Or was this another lie she told herself?

"Why don't you want me?" he asked in a half-broken whisper.

He had backed her in a corner, and she reacted like any other cornered creature: she snapped.

"Just a few minutes ago, you had a jolly good time for a poor, unwanted man."

He drew back abruptly, anger slamming into her both from his eyes and his thoughts.

"Do you think that's all I want from you? To get off?"

His anger surprised and frightened her. Tears stung in the back of her throat.

"I wouldn't mind," she offered meekly. "I truly liked it."

As if he suddenly needed space between them, he pushed himself away from her, sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed.

"What about you? I thought you liked what happened yesterday?"

She sat up against the headboard and tried to collect her scattered thoughts, trying to ignore how offended and hurt he looked.

"You surprised me yesterday. I didn't know what would happen, and once it did, I was helpless to stop it. It frightened me more than I could ever say."

Again, that wasn't quite right. Yes, the intensity, the inevitability of what had happened had frightened her, as had the loss of her senses, her control over herself. But more than that, she had been frightened of becoming dependent on this, on starting to need it, crave it. And she knew without a shadow of a doubt that no other man would ever be able to give this to her. No one but him.

Suddenly, a slow smile lit his face.

"Do you know what your worst insult is for me?" he asked silkily.

He didn't wait for her to answer the question. "Spoilt prince. I've always thought it was the prince part of it that had you so bent out of shape, but it was the fact that you think me so spoilt. And I am." He chuckled to himself. "Well, I was. Your brother, being the son of the tribe chief, certainly was spoilt to a certain extent as well. And the revered Avatar might not exactly be spoilt, but he gets all the attention."

Katara couldn't quite follow him, but kept listening.

"That blind earthbender…"

"Toph."

"Toph, right, she's a spoilt only child, isn't she?"

Zuko scooted a little closer and started caressing her face again.

"But no one ever spoiled you, right? You were always expected to give. They expect you to be their healer, their mother, their sister, their shoulder to cry on. You mend their clothes, you prepare their food and you settle their differences. They need you to be strong and dependable, loving and kind. It's in your nature to give, you're always there for the people who need you. You've given so much, you've forgotten how to take. It scares you."

His thumb drew a slow circle under her eye and she felt wetness there. Tears.

"You're afraid of being spoiled. Of liking it, needing it."

She shuddered as his lips, hot and insistent, kissed over her face, kissing away the trails of her tears, his tongue darting out from time to time to catch a stray drop. Wrapping one arm around her waist, he lowered her into a prone position again, never stopping to shower her face with kisses.

"I'll spoil you, my love," he whispered as more tears kept leaking from her eyes as if someone had broken a dam. "I will give you everything you need, everything you deserve."

Deep, shuddering sobs trembled through her, but he held her close and secure in his arms, allowing her to fall apart, breaking under the weight of a burden she had carried for so long.

"You're not alone any longer, I am yours just like you are mine, and I can't be happy as long as you are not. I am not satisfied as long as you are still wanting. It's the nature of our bond, and even more than that, it's my nature. Tell me that you understand that."

She nodded mutely, the tears finally abating.

"I'm dying to make you feel what you made me feel before," he whispered hotly against her neck as his kisses moved south. "Will you let me?"

_Yes, Zuko._

* * *

tbc 

So, what do you think? I'm eagerly waiting for your opinions.


	15. Fire Lilies

_**Chapter 15: Fire Lilies**_

Katara awoke to the sound of splashing water and an early morning sun peeking through the window. Looking to her side, she found Zuko gone, and surmised that he was the one making all that noise in the adjoining bathroom.

The man really did rise with the sun.

Although he was rather capable after sunset as well. She coloured brightly at the memory of just how capable.

A pleasant sensation tingled over her skin as sensuous images from the night before flashed through her mind.

He had made good on his promise to spoil her. After slowly divesting her of her bathrobe, he had taken his time looking at her with open wonder, his admiration so unaffected and true that her nakedness had begun to feel comfortable to her and she had drawn her hands away from the one place she had tried to protect from his roaming eyes.

He had started kissing her then.

Everywhere.

Literally.

Another deep blush heated her cheeks as she remembered the moment when he had gently but insistently parted her thighs, revealing her vulnerable, aching flesh to his hungry gaze. She had closed her eyes in mortification.

"Look at me," he said, his voice a gentle command.

_Can't._

His hands on her thighs had slid higher, closer to the place where by then she had needed them so badly, her body pushed closer to him on its own accord.

"Please don't hide from me," he whispered.

At the pleading in his tone, she had finally, reluctantly, opened her eyes. She saw at once what he wanted her to see, the raging fire, the all-consuming love and need she woke in him. This fire, combined with the heat cascading through her own body in ever-increasing waves of bliss, washed away the last remnants of her inhibitions.

The noises from the adjoining room stopped and she heard the door open. Without looking at her, Zuko stealthily slipped out toward the living room. She heard the bell-pull and shortly afterwards a hushed conversation that indicated that Zuko was ordering breakfast.

The butler hurried away, and Zuko came back, leaning against the doorframe, looking at her.

Knowing it was useless to pretend to be sleeping; she opened her eyes and looked at him with a wide smile.

Need slammed into her like a blow to her stomach at the sight of him, leaving her gasping for breath. He wore only a sultry smile and the pants from last night. They rode dangerously low on his hips, giving her eyes the chance to feast on the rippling muscles of his stomach and the thin line of black hair that ran down from his navel to… well, those damn pants were much too tight. They left absolutely nothing to the imagination. And currently her imagination was happily conjuring up one wicked image after the other.

She sat up in bed while carefully holding the cover to her chest. No need to give him any ideas; they had things to do, after all.

Important things.

If only she could remember exactly what they were.

When he started to saunter over to her, a sinking feeling told her she didn't need to give him any ideas, he already had them.

He sat down on the bed and carefully brushed a strand of hair out of her forehead. The mere touch of his fingertips sizzled along her nerve-endings, starting the low, drawing pulse deep inside of her.

"Good morning," he purred.

She shivered, despite not being cold at all.

"Good morning," she replied huskily.

His eyes looked like liquid amber in the bright morning light.

"I ordered breakfast," he said while leaning in to kiss her neck.

Her eyes slipped shut when she felt his lips brushing the sensitive skin. She hoped he wouldn't kiss the bite-mark. It would be good-bye to her sanity in this case.

A stray thought flitted through her mind, one that had plagued her ever since they had met Ling Fei.

"I've been thinking," she said, biting back a moan as she felt the tip of his tongue on her neck.

He drew back with an adorable frown.

"Apparently, I am not doing this right," he said and leaned in again, probably to do better.

This time, he almost succeeded in reducing her brain to mush.

"Zuko, I'm serious."

"Hmmm," he murmured against her skin and the vibrations were so intense, she could feel them in her toes. "So am I."

"Don't you think it curious that Ling Fei found us so quickly? It was like he had been expecting us."

Zuko rested his forehead on her shoulder.

"We were in the city for over an hour. If he had someone to watch out for wealthy patrons, they had time enough to alert him to our presence."

"We hardly look like wealthy patrons."

"He thinks I'm a Dark Warrior."

"He admitted that he had never truly met another one before. He can't know if you have any money at all, and if what the old man told us is true, it should have made him wonder why you came with a wife. Still, he didn't seem suspicious at all."

"So what are you trying to say?"

"I guess only that we should be careful. I wouldn't be surprised if your sister was serving us breakfast."

Zuko shuddered and finally drew back from her, scowling.

"Way to put a damper on my mood, Katara."

She was about to ask him if he thought she was wrong, when they heard the bungalow's door open. They both stared pensively to the door, and both breathed a sigh of relief when only the butler's voice came from the living room.

"Sir, breakfast is served as ordered. Your tour guide will await you as soon as you leave the house."

"Thank you, Li," Zuko called. "That will be all."

He looked back at her, something like regret blatantly obvious in his gaze, and then he got up and turned to leave.

"Don't take too long in the bathroom," he said while walking out of the room.

Katara's gaze automatically went to the smooth planes of his exposed back, and down to where those stupid tight pants stretched so snugly over his well-muscled behind. Pants like those should be outlawed. How was a girl to think clearly when confronted with such a sight?

"And stop staring at my rear, or I'll reconsider and have you for breakfast."

Not quite sure whether he was being serious or not, she hopped out of the bed and ran into the bathroom.

………

She tried to be quick with her morning toilet, but the huge mirror in the bathroom kept distracting her. It showed her not only a woman she hardly recognized as herself, but also a woman who carried herself with a smoothness in her every movement, as if last night had infused something into her that had not been there before.

A pleasant awareness of her own sensuality, her needs as a woman.

When she finally stepped outside, clad in her unspectacular Earth-Kingdom clothes and her hair done in a thick braid, Zuko had fortunately dressed as well in a matching green-brown tunic.

Breakfast was as sumptuous and delicious as dinner had been the night before, and they ate with gusto and for the most part in silence. They agreed on letting their appointed tour guide show them the city first, so they would find their way around when they went exploring later.

Katara took Zuko's hand when they stepped outside, squinting into the blindingly bright sunlight. It was a warm day, but not too hot, perfect weather for sightseeing.

Katara had expected their tour guide to be someone like Ling Fei. In fact, she wouldn't have been surprised if the hotel owner had taken it upon himself to show them around. She somehow suspected him of being part of whatever plot had been concocted against them.

But when their eyes had adjusted to the sunlight, they were greeted by a beautiful young woman, with a scary, wide smile.

Jo-Dee, Katara thought automatically.

The woman turned to Zuko as if Katara didn't even exist, and introduced herself as Lee-Sa, their tour guide and responsible for seeing to all the wishes they might have.

Concluding her speech, she gave Zuko an unmistakable head-to-toe look and a seductive smile.

Katara just barely managed to keep herself from hissing at the girl to keep her eyes to herself, and then sidled a bit closer to Zuko, gripping his hand a bit tighter.

Lee-Sa proceeded to tell them, or rather Zuko, that an open carriage was waiting for them so they could comfortably visit the vast gardens around the Shrine of Mahal. After giving Zuko another once-over, she turned and led the way to the carriage, swaying her hips in an utterly indecent manner.

Her luscious body was clad in a white Kimono-style silk dress that was finely embroidered with colourful birds and flowers. Katara sighed inwardly, wondering how she would look in something so elegant and fine.

"Uhm, Lee-Sa," Zuko called out.

The woman turned, simpering at Zuko in a way that made Katara's right hand stray to her waterskin quite on its own volition.

"Sir?"

"I promised my wife to go shopping with her for a number of new dresses. I trust you can give us a few hints as to where one has to go when one wants to find the best quality?"

Lee-Sa's smile never wavered.

"Of course I can, Sir. Right after our tour through the gardens, I'll show you where one can go shopping in Tang-Ma-Hal." Then her smile grew sultry again and she took a tiny step closer to Zuko, letting her gaze roam again. "I am known to recognize quality when I see it."

"I have no doubt about that," Zuko said dryly.

Was she batting her eyelashes at him?

Katara could hardly believe the girl's nerve. If she kept that up, she would find her eyes so swollen, it would be a long time before she could bat her beautiful long lashes at anyone again.

"She seems nice," Zuko said.

_Nice?!_

Fortunately, Katara had only shrieked that in her head, but Zuko was startled at her mental outburst nonetheless. He turned to her, his eyebrow raised curiously.

_What's the matter?_

Katara couldn't believe his obtuseness. Did he really not notice, or was he kidding?

_Don't you see what she's doing?_ she communicated to him. _She looks like she wants to rip your clothes off your body and… make babies with you._

Zuko gaped.

_You're jealous of __her?_

He stressed the last word with such incredulity, it sounded as if she had told him he was flirting with a mole-rat.

She glowered.

Then he laughed. Not as if he was laughing at her, but a loud, boisterous laugh. A happy laugh.

Lee-Sa looked at them, puzzled.

"I love you, Katara," he said so loudly, even the gardeners a few yards away had probably heard it.

"I love you," he said again while cupping her face in his hands. "I love you," he whispered, just before his mouth came down hard on her lips. It wasn't merely a short peck he gave her; it was a long, passionate kiss that left her knees so wobbly she had to grab hold of his upper arms to keep herself from slipping to the ground in a helpless puddle of need and love.

"Love you, too," she said breathlessly when he finally released her.

He gave her a smile that put the sun above them to shame.

Lee-Sa's smile, however, had turned a few degrees colder when Katara looked at her again.

………

During the fifteen-minute ride to the Shrine, nothing could darken Zuko's good mood.

He had his arm possessively around her shoulders and demonstratively kissed her every now and then. He also wasn't above sending her some decidedly improper images, most of them involving him buying her new underwear to replace the ones he'd scorched, and how he would get her out of said underwear again. He had a bit of an one-track mind this morning.

Lee-Sa probably wondered why Katara was constantly blushing for no apparent reason. Not that Katara cared much about what Lee-Sa was thinking, as long as she kept her eyes away from Zuko.

When they drove through the huge wrought-iron gate into the gardens, it became obvious immediately why Tang-Ma-Hal was called the City of Flowers. There were flowerbeds as far as the eye could see. Amidst the ocean of colourful blossoms, the white domes of the Shrine sparkled brightly in the sunlight. The air was thick with the fragrance of a thousand different blossoms, and vibrated with the noise of hundreds of tourists walking the well-used paths to the Shrine, chattering and laughing.

Their first stop was the Shrine itself.

Along the huge main square in front of the building stood about a dozen little platforms, where priests constantly performed wedding rituals.

Lee-Sa told them that every day about fifty couples tied their knot in front of the revered Shrine.

The interior of the Shrine was closed to the normal Earth-Kingdom citizen. Only very wealthy couples, or those in some way connected to the royal family, were allowed into its inner sanctum, and only a few weddings took place inside.

According to Lee-Sa, they were lucky that, just today, the daughter of a wealthy merchant was getting married to the son of one of the king's advisors.

She had barely said that when the massive wooden doors of the Shrine opened.

For a moment, it seemed like the masses outside held their collective breath, suspended in motionless silence.

The newlywed couple walked slowly down the stairs, the bride in an ivory silk dress, studded with thousands of tiny pearls and glittering diamonds, the groom in a richly embroidered silk overtunic. Their hands were bound together by a long, golden cord.

If the Earth-Kingdom ritual was the same as the ritual of the watertribe, the couple would have to figure out how to untie the bond as a test to their abilities to achieve things together.

Loud cheering broke loose around them, and rice and flowers were thrown at the couple until they vanished into a luxurious carriage, drawn by no less than eight ostrich-horses.

………

After all that excitement, Katara wanted to see one of the less frequented parts of the garden.

While they rode there in the carriage, Lee-Sa asked them if they had noticed anything unusual during last night.

_Shall I tell her what I remember from last night_ Zuko asked her innocently.

She gave him a warning look.

"No, we didn't notice anything," Katara said, trying to ignore the snickering in her head. "We were rather tired after our journey and went to bed early."

_We might have gone to bed, but we didn't go to sleep, now did we?_

She glared at him again.

_Keep that up and you'll sleep on the couch tonight._

He looked contrite at once.

"Apparently," Lee-Sa said, "Very weird things happened last night at the hotel. At first, all the fires in the fireplaces began to blaze as if someone had poured oil onto them. Some of the patrons were so scared, they doused the flames."

Zuko turned to her and raised one eyebrow significantly.

_I told you it was indescribable._

Katara put her hand over her mouth to hide a grin.

"And then," Lee-Sa continued, "About half an hour later, all streams and ponds in the hotel started to boil. At least that was what everyone thought. But the water was as cool as before, only it seemed somehow in constant motion. And then, at some point, fountains shot up from every pond, and the streams started flowing over their banks. It only lasted a few minutes, but a lot of the guests were rather disturbed by the episode."

Zuko smirked proudly.

_I truly didn't know I was _that_ good._

She nudged him with her elbow, while trying to stifle a slightly embarrassed giggle.

"Here we are," Lee-Sa announced happily when they alighted at a nice quiet spot, shadowed by huge trees. All around them, wide flowerbeds stretched into every direction.

The buzzing of insects filled the tepid air with a constant soft hum.

"Some of the rarest flowers from all over the world grow in these parts of the garden," Lee-Sa explained. "Additionally, a few times a day, a candy merchant comes by with his cart. His sweets are the most delicious in all of Tang-Ma-Hal. You," Lee-Sa turned to Zuko, "should definitely buy some for your wife."

Zuko nodded while he helped Katara out of the carriage.

"I think I should leave the two of you alone for a while," Lee-Sa offered. "The coachman knows where to find me."

Katara had not even finished heaving a huge sigh of relief, when Lee-Sa had vanished as if the ground had swallowed her.

She slightly leaned against Zuko's chest.

"Finally."

He chuckled and took her hand. "Shall we walk?"

They had not walked very far, when they came upon a large hedge of rhododendron bushes, easily twice as high as a normal person, blooming in all shades of violet, lilac and pink. Hidden behind that natural wall was a little pond, overgrown with reed, its brackish water glistening in the sun. A brown lizard-frog croaked irritatedly when he saw them and hopped into the pond.

Another animal sound came from somewhere behind the reeds and they sneaked a few steps further, trying to get a look.

A family of turtle-ducks happily dabbled in the greenish water.

"Turtle-ducks!" Zuko exclaimed with the exuberance of an eight-year-old.

The mother turtle-duck quacked angrily and shooed her offspring in the opposite direction.

Zuko turned to her, happiness shining warm and golden out of his eyes.

"They're animals native to the Fire-Nation. If they're here, my mother has to be here, too. I know it."

Katara just smiled. In all the days of travelling, she had not once dared to ask him what he would do if he didn't find his mother, how long he would look for her, and if he would ever give up. But even before she had discovered the deep love she felt for him, she had not dared to take away the hope that was so precious to him. She had no idea what he would do, how he would react if she even so much as suggested things might not go his way. Zuko, she knew from experience, was no one who took failure lightly or with dejection. He would be lashing out at whoever happened to be in his vicinity, and as it were, there was quite a big chance that would be her.

He took her hand, his smile so radiant it changed his whole face.

"Please meditate with me, Katara," he asked softly. "And I'd like you to heal the rest of my scar. I want to look my best when we find my mother."

He seemed so certain that they would, it wiped away her uncertainty about the success of their quest.

Feeling playful, Katara called two handfuls of water from the pond and formed it into a flat shape, imitating the shape of the pond.

"Now show me what you can do, firebender," she challenged.

Zuko flexed his fingers and looked at her with overly dramatic concentration. From each of his hands, little balls of flame ignited, shifting and changing forms until they looked vaguely like turtle-ducks. He let them settle on the miniature pond and they both laughed as the energy of their bond started coursing through them in a pleasant stream of vital power.

When he leaned in for a kiss, tingling sparks sizzled between their lips even before they met. The stream of energy coming from the connection between their elements turned into a torrent of such vigour, Katara closed her eyes to concentrate on it.

Pictures flashed through her mind. She was at the Shrine again, watching the doors open to let out the newlywed couple. Only this time it was her wearing that beautiful, expensive dress, and it was Zuko at her side.

A smell came to the forefront of her awareness. Out of the mixture of flowery scents, one started to dominate the others with its exotic aroma. She smelled it while she found herself lying on cool silk, looking into amber eyes, darkened by passion. She felt Zuko, inside her, all around her, connected to her by mind, body and soul, moving over her in a rhythm that an ancient part of her recognized immediately.

A sharp pain struck her cheek, as if someone had slapped her, and her eyes flew open. Cursing under his breath, Zuko had pressed his hand against the last patches of his scar, that was already bleeding.

She pried his fingers away from the wound and healed it quickly, and then stepped back to look at him. The last patches of the reddish scar tissue were gone, but a few silvery lines still crisscrossed the area where the scar had been, looking like old cuts or scratches.

Gently, she drew her fingertips over the sensitive skin.

"Those probably won't go away."

He took her hand and pressed a kiss inside her open palm.

"It doesn't matter, they're barely visible. If the rest of it is gone…"

"It is."

Beaming a bright smile at her, he leaned in for another kiss, when he suddenly lifted his head, sniffing.

"I smell something familiar," he said.

Katara inhaled deeply through her nose, and, like in her vision, she found that one flowery scent was dominant in the air around them. A rich, striking scent that reminded her of the Fire-Nation Palace.

Zuko took her hand and all but dragged her out from behind the rhododendron hedge and along the path, until the towering hedges receded and gave way to a breathtaking sight.

A vast flowerbed that blazed in the brightest and liveliest red she had ever seen.

Zuko stopped dead in is tracks.

"Fire lilies."

Growing so close together, one could barely see stems or leaves, the fragile blossoms emitted a fragrance that almost made her dizzy with its intensity.

"They only grow in the Fire-Nation," Zuko whispered, as if he feared he might somehow scare the flowers away. "And even there only under special conditions. And they bloom only for a few weeks every year. Even at home I never saw so many of them in one place."

From somewhere behind them, a faint ringing reached their ears, as if from a tiny bell. They turned, and for a split moment, saw a man pushing a colourful cart. He rung a little brass bell he held in his hand and vanished from sight as he turned right into a path behind the huge hedges.

Zuko flashed her a smile.

"I'll get us some candy. Be right back. Don't move."

Before Katara could offer to come with him, he had run off into the direction of the candy-man, leaving her alone in the midst of a field of blood-red flowers.

She bent down to touch one of the soft-looking petals.

"I wouldn't do that," a pleasant female voice said behind her. "They're beautiful, but poisonous."

Startled, Katara shot upright and spun around.

She recognized the woman in front of her immediately.

Over the last ten years, Ursa had barely changed. Her large, light-brown eyes were full of motherly warmth, her face still unbelievably beautiful. Her hair was gathered in a loose knot, a single white lotus blossom the only ornament in her raven black tresses. Her clothes were unusual for either Earth-Kingdom or Fire-Nation. She was clad in a dress of night-black silk, tied with a black sash. Only the collar of the dress and the cuffs of her sleeves were adorned with white lotus blossoms, embroidered on the black fabric with sparkling silver thread and tiny, shimmering pearls.

"Ursa," Katara said, her voice only a toneless whisper. "I mean… Lady Ursa."

The woman's eyes widened and she took a few steps back. Two huge shadows appeared behind her, hovering protectively.

"How do you know my name?" Ursa asked.

Katara threw a nervous glance at the two shadows. Dark Warriors was indeed a rather fitting term for them.

They were at least as tall and broad-shouldered as Zuko. Like their mistress, they wore an outfit that seemed outlandish. Their knee-length boots were lacking the pointed tips Fire-Nation soldiers seemed so fond of and were made of plain black leather. They wore tight pants that only served to highlight the powerful muscles beneath. No body armour could be seen under their loose black shirts. The outfit was made especially mysterious by ankle-length cloaks with large hoods that they had drawn deep into their faces.

"I… I know your son," Katara stuttered. "In fact, I'm here with him, he's looking for you."

Ursa's pale skin whitened even more.

"Zuko is here?" she whispered. "Has he brought troops?"

Now Katara's eyes widened.

"No… no, no, no!" she said while Ursa backed up farther. "It's nothing like that. He's come alone, he only wanted to find you."

Ursa suddenly turned and hurried away, her guards right behind her, their billowing cloaks shrouding her from sight.

Katara's heart hammered in her throat. She couldn't let her get away like that. Who knew if they would ever find her again?

"Please wait!" she called and ran.

Or tried to.

Two heavy hands descended on her shoulders, while two others wrapped around her wrists, effectively keeping her from bending. Looking up, she stared into the partially hidden face of a young man that she would've found handsome, if she wasn't so scared right now.

"Please let me go, I have to speak to Lady Ursa."

She could've spoken to a stone boulder for all the good it did.

A white flame suddenly sizzled past the hood of one of her captors with an angry hiss.

Zuko. She almost collapsed with relief.

The Dark Warriors turned their heads, their hands still firm on her wrists and shoulders.

"Will you kindly unhand my wife, or do I need to use force?"

Only Katara could see the amused smirk on the young guard's face, but to her surprise, the four strong hands lifted from her into a gesture of surrender.

The earth rumbled beneath them and dust shot up so thickly, Katara could barely breathe, let alone see anything.

With eyes closed and violently coughing, she groped for her waterskin. Fine mist caught most of the earthy dust and settled as muddy residue on her clothes and everything around her.

Great. Now she probably looked like Toph fresh out of a mud-bath.

"Earthbenders," Zuko said, letting his hands sink from his bending stance. "They vanished into their dust-cloud, I'm afraid I can't say where they've gone."

Which was exactly what Katara feared. The full force of what had just happened hit her like a blow to her stomach. She started shaking all over, her teeth chattering.

Zuko, who had been staring in the direction where he probably thought the earthbenders had vanished, turned to her and his expression turned from anger to worry in a heartbeat.

With a few long strides, he was at her side, drawing her against him despite the dirt clinging to her.

"Did they do anything to you, love? Did they hurt you?"  
"No… no," she whispered.

Tears burned painfully in her throat. How could she tell him that she had just botched what might have been their only chance of finding his mother?

"I'll take you back to the hotel, baby, all right?" he whispered.

"Zuko… I…"

He shushed her. "We'll talk later."

………

Their drive back to the hotel was a blur. Katara was constantly fighting tears, she barely noticed Lee-Sa's covert glances at her dirty clothes.

The second the door had closed behind them, finally leaving them alone once again, she began to talk.

"Zuko, I have to tell you something."

"I know, baby," he said soothingly. "But one don't you take a bath first and slip into something comfortable. I'll order dinner—"

"No!"

He started at the harshness of her words.

"Those two guys before, they were Dark Warriors," she said hastily, afraid she'd loose her courage to tell him any of that if she was to wait another second. "They held me back because I wanted to follow your mother. I met her while I waited for you to come back—"

Zuko lifted his hand. "Wait." A deep frown creased his forehead, and a deep ridge appeared between his eyebrows.

"Are you telling me you've seen my mother?"

Katara swallowed painfully around the lump in her throat.

"Yes," she croaked.

He stared at her, golden eyes blazing.

"What… happened?"

She recounted what had transpired in as much detail as possible. When she was done, she looked at him expectantly.

Zuko stood utterly still, as if he had turned to stone. But then she noticed the trembling. A fine tremor rippling over him, just before his hands balled to fists. Cutting fire burned in his eyes.

"You told her you knew her?" he asked, the strain of holding himself in check audible in his voice. "You told her that I was looking for her?"

She gave a minute nod.

He closed his eyes for a moment and she was sure she could hear him grinding his teeth.

"Were you out of your mind?"

The question was asked softly, but he might as well have shouted it for the effect it had on her.

"Zuko," she whispered, but he didn't hear her.

"You drove her away," he accused, his voice growing louder. "Now that she knows I'm here, she'll hide and I'll never find her again."

"Maybe—"

He didn't let her speak, the fire in his eyes searing into her with hurtful intensity.

"Maybe what, Katara? Maybe she'll decide it's worth the risk and she'll come looking for me? Maybe we'll just stroll along the gardens tomorrow and wait for her to magically appear again?" His chest heaved with deep intakes of breath. "You blew this!"

Self-flagellation slowly turned to irritation at his overblown reaction.

"Zuko, you're overreacting. She's been in this city for almost ten years, surely—"

"Surely what?" he shouted. A red haze obscured the bright gold of his irises. "Haven't you listened to anything people told us? She can only be found if she wants to be, and after your stupid stunt today, I bet she won't want to be found for a long time."

"I was surprised!" she cried.

"And that excuses your acting like a stupid, brainless idiot?" he yelled back.

"I am not stupid! Do you think you could've handled it any better?"

A puff of smoke came out of his nostrils and he advanced on her. But then he suddenly stopped, his face twisting into a mask of disappointment and pain.

And then it went blank. Gooseflesh rippled over her skin at the sight.

"That's right, you're not stupid," he said.

She might have been relieved had it not been for the tone of his voice. Flat and chilly as if his red-hot anger had turned into something colder than ice.

"No one can be as stupid as you acted today. You did it on purpose."

Her jaw fell open and an icy feeling snaked through her gut.

"What?"

A little muscle twitched on his cheek as he gritted his teeth.

"I was the stupid one. I trusted you."

Raw terror crawled coldly up her spine.

"You only wanted me for your beloved Avatar and your sacred mission. You've never wanted me to find my mother. It was all a lie."

She could not fight the pain that clamped like an iron vise around her heart, squeezing the blood out of it, breaking it.

"How can you say that?" she whispered. "After everything."

His mouth curved into a nasty smile.

"Maybe I'm wrong again. Maybe I do mean something to you. Maybe you just wanted me all to yourself."

She took a shaking breath.

"Now you're just being ridiculous."

His mouth formed a grim line.

"Am I?" he asked coldly. "Haven't you told me yourself that you were jealous of Mai, although you knew she meant nothing to me? Weren't you burning with jealousy because of that stupid twit Lee-Sa?"

Katara just shook her head helplessly, while trying to wipe away the tears that poured ceaselessly out of her eyes.

"How much worse would it be if I found my mother?"

"Zuko…"

"You won't let me find my mother because you will never find yours."

She reacted before she had time to think. Zuko's head snapped sideways with the force of the blow that had landed on the right side of his face.

Her knuckles throbbed, but she barely noticed through the rage and pain that threatened to suffocate her.

"How dare you?" she sobbed loudly. "How dare you use that against me!"

He slowly turned back to her and her heart broke again as she looked into his eyes. Like a window fracturing into a thousands shards, something broke in his gaze and tears pooled at the corners of his eyes.

"I thought you loved me," he whispered. "I thought you knew what finding her meant to me; I thought you would've wanted that for me."

In some detached part of her brain, she wondered how she could still stand upright, how she had not already crumbled under the weight of the pain. Maybe it was only bad dream, a nightmare. Maybe…

He shook his head and turned to go.

"How could you do this to me, Katara?" he mumbled as if to himself, and opened the front door. "How could you?"

When the door slammed close behind him, her knees finally gave out.

She tumbled to the floor and rolled into a ball, curling around the fragments of her heart and the last bit of warmth, while cold began to seep through her skin.

* * *

tbc 

**_A/N2: _**All right, before the rotten tomatoes start flying my way: I think Zuko's mood-swing is sort of in character for him. He is not only an emotional basket-case, he also has an extremely volatile temper. A few days of sweet lovin' won't just spirit that away - at least not so fast.

That said, I'm still beyond curious about what you think, even if you'll bring out the rotten tomatoes.


	16. White Lotus

**_A/N: _**For those of you for whom the whole "White Lotus" thing doesn't ring a bell, please refer to an Avatar website of your choosing and read the transcript of episode 2-10 "The Library". There Iroh tells Zuko about the Secret Order of the White Lotus.  
I'm afraid the whole chapter - and a few of the following - won't make much sense otherwise.

_**

* * *

Chapter 16: White Lotus**_

Ever since last night, when Zuko had told Katara the legend of Zu and La, he felt as if a dragon lived somewhere right inside him. The beast had been livid a few minutes ago, hissing in rage at having the object of his search snatched away from him before he had the chance to speak to her just once.

The overwhelming disappointment had driven him to lash out at her, yell at her, insult her. This sort of hot temper was in his nature, and she knew it and had proven she could deal with it. They would've fought, yelled at each other, maybe even thrown a few punches, and maybe they would have ended up kissing and touching and making up for all the hurt with loving caresses.

But the dragon inside him was whimpering right now like a kicked dog. Rolled tightly around its hurting heart, nursing its pain.

Because something else had woken in him during their fight. Something nasty and cold and evil. Something that made the dragon shrink back in terror.

Something that had whispered the possibility that she would betray him, even though in his heart he had not for a minute believed it could be true. But just the thought that she had used him, manipulated him like he had been manipulated a hundred times before, had made him say words he could not take back. Words so hurtful they had cut him just as much as they had cut her.

_You're as cruel as your sister, _Mai had said before she died.

He did not want to be cruel; he never had. He liked the man he had been with Katara just an hour ago. He liked himself happy, in love, kind and content.

He had tried to be that man before, back in Ba-Sing-Se, and then too he had failed to live up to his own expectations. It felt as if part of him did not want him to be a good person.

While he was so deep in thought, he had stormed blindly through the vast area of the 'Garden of Luxury' and had apparently run in a circle, because he currently found himself at a quiet pond, not too far from the bungalow where he had left Katara.

He sat down at the water's edge and closed his eyes, trying to relax his breathing. Maybe a bit of good old meditation – the lonely kind – would help him make sense of the barrage of conflicting emotions inside him.

When he opened his eyes again after a long time of fruitlessly trying to meditate, dusk had darkened his surroundings, but he could see no lights coming from the windows of the bungalow.

Worry stabbed into his belly. He had erected his mental walls against Katara's feelings as soon as she had begun feeling pain at his words, but now he reached out tentatively, trying to see how she was.

He yelped when he felt the door to her mind being smashed right into his face.

For a long time he just sat there, trying to work out what to do. Lights came on in the house, at first in the living room, then in the bathroom.

The water in the little pond beside him started to ripple with tiny waves.

At the sight, he keenly felt the repercussions of the breach in their connection. The energy sapping out of him. The thirst.

The waves grew while he watched them, and after a while, it looked like a miniature storm was raging over the pond, whipping the water into a frenzy of foaming waves.

Compelled by thirst, he held his hand over the disturbed surface, and let two fiery tendrils grow from his hand, tentatively touching the water.

The water stilled with an eerie suddenness, not even a ripple marring the perfectly shiny surface. He trembled with the sharp pleasure of the connection, the joy of the much needed energy flowing back to him. The tendrils of fire greedily roamed over the water.

But then, out of the complete stillness, a wave roared up toward him, killing the fire and slamming against him, throwing him backward.

He landed unceremoniously on his behind, a few feet away from the pond.

The dragon roared in him, primed for a fight, urging him to go back. To the pond, to the water… to her. Hash it out, fight for your happiness. Show her she'll never be free of you. Show her she's yours.

He pulled himself upright, his eyes focused on the light in the house, determined to make things right.

He had only taken a few steps, when a person materialized on the well manicured lawn before him. A woman, clad in a finely embroidered white dress, smiling at him so widely that her perfect teeth gleamed in the fading light of the day.

"Good evening, Sir."

He inclined his head politely.

"Good evening, Lee-Sa."

He started to walk around her, but she stepped toward him, stopping him again.

A sudden smile lit his face when he remembered Katara's jealousy. Her fierce possessiveness had made him so happy, it was ridiculous.

And Katara had a point. Lee-Sa was not only interested in him in an unseemly way, she was indeed a very beautiful woman. Delicate, even features, slightly slanted light-brown eyes. A lush body with ample curves in all the right places. No red-blooded male would be able to resist her.

No one, that was, but him.

He was not even tempted; the beast inside him recoiled at her closeness. Before, the part of the old legend where it was said that dragons mated for life hadn't meant much to him. It did now.

"If you'll excuse me," he said, forcing himself to be polite, "I want to go back to my wife."

Lee-Sa's smile stayed in place, and she stepped even closer, the swell of her breasts now up against his chest.

"If you'll allow me, I want to show you something."

Her tone suggested that she didn't mean ancient buildings.

He stepped back.

"We'll meet again tomorrow, Lee-Sa. You can show both of us then."

From the corners of his eyes, he saw shadows flitting around him, surrounding him. He turned his head and squinted into the darkness, trying to see more. His eyes were not much use in the dark. He could look right into a blazing fire, or into glaring sunlight, but in the dark he was blind as a mole-rat. His instincts screamed at him that something sinister was lurking in that darkness.

His attention snapped back to Lee-Sa, when she pressed her enticing curves against him once more. Her fingers found his hand, tickling his palm and wandering up his wrist, into the sleeve of his tunic.

"You don't know what you're missing," she whispered, getting up on tiptoes.

She was good, he had to give her that, but once again he caught the shadows sneaking around him, encircling him. He ripped his hand from Lee-Sa's searching grasp and went into a defensive stance.

_Katara, I think I'm being ambushed._

His thoughts bounced off an impenetrable wall.

Lee-Sa had taken a few steps back, and her smile had faded a little. At least ten huge shadows stood around him.

"Please, Prince Zuko," Lee-Sa said kindly, and he could almost detect a trace of worry in her tone. "There's no need to make this difficult."  
He gathered himself, breathed deeply… and then swiftly spun around in a circle, sending a wide bow of fire at the shadows.

For a moment, the fire illuminated the shapes. About twenty men in black cloaks loomed only a couple of steps away from him, their faces hidden beneath large hoods. A few of them deflected his assault with the ease of a trained Fire-Nation soldier. He was in big trouble. He might have been able to handle five of them, maybe ten. But not twenty.

_Katara, I need your help_he thought desperately, trying to reach her somehow.

The shadows closed in on him with terrifying synchronous precision.

_Katara!_

His white fire might have helped him, but an experimental flick of his finger told him that whichever part of him created it was currently out of working order.

With a power born of desperation, he started to send rapid shots around himself, hoping that the fireworks would somehow catch Katara's attention.

He spun constantly, knowing that at least half of the men were constantly in his back. If they fought fair, they wouldn't attack him from behind.

As a dull pain hit the back of his head, he learned that they weren't here to fight fair.

His vision blurred and darkness encroached on him as he fell.

_KATARA_

………

Katara did not know how long she had lain on the floor of the living-room, shivering and crying until she had no tears left. Daylight had turned into dusk outside, and her fragmented thoughts still tumbled like dry leaves through her brain. She was empty. And cold. So very… very cold.

_Katara, are you all right?_

Emotions thundered through her, reviving her at the tentative question in her head.

She slapped him back while building her defences to keep him out of her thoughts.

Hot anger infused her bloodstream, warming her. She stood up on shaking legs, her whole body trembling.

Looking down at her muddy clothes, she decided to clean up first, before she went after him and showed him the full force of her anger. She knew he was close by.

Her skin was clammy and pale with cold as she stripped out of her ruined clothes. Maybe a hot bath would take care of that.

She sighed at the momentary illusion of warmth as she stepped into the steaming water, but after only a short moment she shivered again.

I hate him, she thought, but the lie was too monstrous for her to believe it.

No, she didn't hate him, but she was angry. Furious. Fury was good. Fury kept her from freezing to death. She gave it free rein.

The water around her slapped in growing waves over the rim of the tub.

And then she felt his touch, the connection of fire and water, infusing her with the warmth the water couldn't give her. She sighed, leaning her head back at the sensual vibrations of the pulsing bond between them. He touched her, loved her, wanted her.

Her eyes snapped open, and fury was back full force as she remembered why she needed his touch so much in the first place. A throaty cry of rage came from her throat as she severed the link and shoved hard against the source of the energy.

The loss of the bond was like a cut to her flesh. Pain and humiliation forced tears to her eyes, but they vanished before they could roll down her face.

How dared he touch her like that after what had happened? How could she have let him?

She pulled her knees to her chest and rested her forehead on top of them, trying to empty her mind of anything but the anger.

Zuko's attempts at mentally speaking to her sounded through her mind like dull thuds against a massive wooden door. He didn't cease, the pounding against her defences increasing until it throbbed as a dull pain in her head.

_KATARA!_

She jerked her head upright at the pained scream.

It was followed by silence. The pounding in her head stopped. He was gone. Not as if he was asleep; she would have still sensed him if he was asleep.

He was just… not there anymore.

Ice enclosed her heart, crystallized in her veins and froze her limbs. Zuko was gone. And now she was dead, too.

A flicker of anger lit in her belly, fighting the deadly cold.

Why did that stupid idiot have to run away? If he hadn't behaved like a spoilt child, if he had stayed and talked things through, nothing would have happened.

With jerky, uneven movements, she climbed out of the tub and slung a towel around herself. Then she lit a candle in the bedroom and put out all other fires. If someone had gone after Zuko, they would most likely go after her as well.

It had to be Azula.

Damn Zuko and his stupid arrogance! If he had listened to her, no one would have known where they were staying.

She dug through her things, unsuccessfully looking for something black that she could wear. Then she went through Zuko's stuff. He was already hating her for chasing away his mother; she might as well add snooping around through his backpack to the list of offences.

A new wave of anger spurned her on as his hurtful words echoed through her brain.

_You did it on purpose!_

Remembering this kept the anger alive and the desperation at bay. She only had to remember what he had said.

Her search through Zuko's clothes unearthed a pair of nondescript black pants and a dark overtunic of coarse material. She had never seen him wear something so un-princely.

While snuffing out the last burning candle, she noticed that the ruined part of the bed had been repaired. As if the last night had never happened, everything was shiny and unblemished. Maybe it had been a dream, after all. It seemed so far away now, so unreal.

When every room was shrouded in darkness, she peered out of all the windows in the house.

Two large shadows lurked in front of the house. The bungalow sadly had no other door.

Taking only her waterskin, Katara opened one of the bedroom windows and crawled through it. When her eyes had adjusted to the darkness and she could see well enough, she looked around for other signs of danger, and sneaked away from the 'Garden of Luxury'.

………

Zuko regained consciousness with the feeling of his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth, and a whole herd of rhinos stampeding through his head.

"Water," he croaked, not exactly expecting anything to happen.

Surprisingly enough, a pair of helpful, gentle hands lifted his head and held a cup with cold liquid to his dry lips.

He drank with greedy gulps, already knowing it would do nothing to help him.

Glaring light hit his eyes when he opened them. Daylight.

He squeezed them shut again, deducing that he must have been out for at least the whole night.

Carefully, he took stock of all his limbs and senses, noting with some relief that everything was still attached and more or less working.

Then he opened his eyes again and sat up. Soft silk slithered down his naked torso, revealing it to the appreciative glance of a smiling Lee-Sa.

"Good morning, Prince Zuko, I hope you have slept well."

In the back of his mind, he wondered why he hadn't noticed last night that she hadn't addressed him by his assumed name.

"You!" he yelled, jumping out of the bed. "You abducted me!"

He advanced on the retreating girl, but before he could reach her she opened the door and slipped outside.

Two large men, clad in black clothes, filed into the room, looking grim. One of them started to speak, his deep monotone booming in the little room.

"Lady Ursa wanted to see you as soon as you were awake."

It was a good thing he was so close to the bed. He stumbled backward, and as the back of his wobbly knees hit the bed, he plopped back down.

"Lady Ursa," he echoed hollowly.

His head was still pounding mercilessly, his throat scratchy with thirst.

"Get dressed," the man said gruffly. "We'll come to get you in two minutes."

The door clicked shut behind the two guards, and in this moment Zuko felt something like insanity tug at his mind.

His mother, finally. He should be elated, shouting with joy, laughing and dancing.

But instead sickness was roiling in his stomach, his hands were shaking uncontrollably and he was on the verge of breaking down sobbing like a little boy. He was coming apart at the seams, and the only person able to hold him together was probably freezing to death right now, just the way he was drying up like a three days old sea-prune.

_Katara, __I need you,_ he thought helplessly, knowing that even if she could, she would not want to hear him.

………

In her dreams, someone tweaked Katara's nose. It actually stung a little. She batted at the offender, and was answered with a surprised quack.

Confused, she opened her eyes to find herself face to face with a large-eyed baby turtle-duck. Bright sunshine beat warmly down on her, glittering on the wet turtle-duck's shell.

For good measure, the fluffy thing snapped at her nose again.

"Hey," Katara said while sitting up.

The little tyke waddled a few steps backwards, but still looked at her with something like curiosity.

She looked around herself, taking in the reeds and the pond and the little turtle-duck still watching at her.

A violent shiver went through her, making her teeth chatter. In a painful rush, memories came crashing back into her consciousness. Zuko's harsh words, his vanishing, her desperate search in the dead of the night, her collapsing exhausted at the side of the pond. She pressed a closed fist against her mouth to keep herself from crying.

The turtle-duck looked alarmed and waddled closer again.

She reached out with her forefinger and carefully touched the downy feathers on the side of the duckling's head.

"I can see why he loves you guys," she said, her voice breaking. "Do you know if he's even alive still?"

The duckling quacked as if to answer her question in the positive. She must be losing her mind; she was already talking to animals.

If she still had any tears left, she would've cried at the hopelessness of her situation. Last night, fuelled by her anger, she had prowled the city, confident she would find him because she could sense his presence. Only she couldn't anymore.

He was still completely gone.

_Katara, I need you._

She had long since lowered her mental defences, so his words were starkly clear in her mind.

For a moment, elation rippled along her overwrought nerves and she felt like melting with overwhelming relief. He was alive, and he was close.

The duckling quacked animatedly and hopped around as if sensing her excitement.

She stood, and only then did she notice the cold stiffness of her limbs, the numbness of her toes and fingers.

She summoned the anger that had warmed her last night, let its searing heat creep through her veins until she could move again. With a sudden flash of insight, it occurred to her that it must have been like that for Zuko for years. That he had nothing to cling to but his anger, until it was the emotion most familiar to him, the emotion he turned to when everything seemed lost.

Only that didn't excuse what he'd done to her.

Determined, she squared her shoulders and then looked down at the little turtle-duck, meaning to bid it good-bye.

But her little friend had already scrambled back into the water to join its family.

………

Somehow, part of Zuko's mind remembered how to dress, and as the guards came to fetch him, he was as ready as he could be under the circumstances.

With his wrists shackled behind his back, they led him through a hallway that was made of white marble: floor, walls and ceiling.

Then they turned and went up a short flight of white marble stairs before they halted in front of a huge door made of almost white wood. Gold inlays in the wood, done with extremely fine craftsmanship, showed a huge Pai-Sho symbol of the White Lotus.

Two men stood watch outside that door.

Dark Warriors, he thought dejectedly.

How dumb of him not to have seen the connection before. It had all been so obvious. Lee-Sa leading him to a part of the gardens where they found turtle-ducks and fire-lilies, leaving them alone, telling him he absolutely must buy Katara those dratted sweets.

Why had he not seen through all that?

The wooden door creaked open, and while he was led through them, the guards glared at him with ill-concealed hostility.

Ever since he had first thought of finding his mother, he had fantasized of how it would be when he found her. In his fantasies, he had rescued her from one dreadful situation after another. From servitude under a cruel, abusive master. From poverty, even from prison.

Not that he wished those things on her, but he craved to come to her as her bright, shining hero, as a son she could be proud of, could love for the fine man he had become.

Never in all those dreams had he come to her as a prisoner, as a physical and emotional wreck.

The open door revealed a gigantic hall.

A high vaulted ceiling spanned over the entire hall, painted light-blue and adorned with feathery clouds. Windows completely surrounded the circular room and daylight streamed into it from every direction. But what mostly gave one the feeling of being out in the open was the multitude of potted plants that stood everywhere.

Gigantic palm-trees reached high up to the domed ceiling, and the blooms of white lotus bushes emanated their sweet aroma throughout. Birds chirped somewhere, and a few little fountains added to the lively atmosphere with the soothing murmur of fresh water.

The two men at his back pushed him forward, directing him through the chaotically placed plants. When he looked at his feet, he noticed that the floor was plastered with tiny ceramic tiles, forming intricate designs that repeated endlessly the symbols of the four elements, interspersed with the symbol of the White Lotus.

Eventually, they reached the other side of the hall. An elevated marble platform rose from the floor, a huge throne standing in its centre, guarded by four Dark Warriors on either side of the throne. Behind the platform, a huge golden symbol of the white lotus adorned the wall.

On the throne, clad completely in black just as Katara had described her to him, sat his mother, regally poised and oh so beautiful.

Her eyes shone warmly at him, but she made no move to have the guards release their iron grip on his shoulders and upper arms.

Which was just as well, because in this moment, his knees gave out and it was only their steady grip that held him upright.

His vision blurred with the tears welling up in his eyes.

For years he had cried himself to sleep every night because he missed her so much. Missed her reassuring touch, her understanding, her laughter. After his banishment, he had stopped crying, had sworn to himself not to show any more weakness. The only emotions he had allowed himself to show where the occasional bouts of unrestrained anger.

"Zuko," she said.

Her soft, lilting voice battered against the pitiful scraps that were left of his composure. The urge to cry burned like acid in his throat.

"Why did you abandon me?"

He had not planned to sound so accusatory, so tear-choked. In fact, he had not planned to ask that question at all. It had burst forth from somewhere deep inside of him, escaping from the remnants of his self-control that crumbled around him, leaving him shaking with suppressed sobs.

His mother stood and walked haltingly toward him, shadowed by the guards at her side.

"I had no choice."

He wanted to run to her, throw himself at her feet and cling to her knees like a little child that had lost its mother in a crowded market-place. He wanted to bury his fists into her dress and beg her to never, ever leave him alone again.

He strained against the men holding him, but they didn't budge.

And then he broke. He was beyond anger, beyond grief and sadness. He just turned himself inside out, showing his bloodied insides, his wounds, his pain, and he didn't care who else might see it.

_Katara, help me__. Please._

"You left me," he roared, tears blinding him. "You left me to abuse and ridicule. You left me with him so he could hurt me, maim me!"

Tears glittered in the corners of his mother's eyes and he could feel her gaze sweeping over his face.

He suddenly wished he still had his old scar, the monstrous one. The one that spoke of the cruelty a father had inflicted on his child.

"I hoped Iroh would take care of you," she whispered.

He roared in frustration at the outrageous remark, the sound echoing through the vast hall. Birds fluttered up from the palm-trees, disturbed by the inhuman sound.

"I needed a mother," he said, his ability to yell weakening. "I needed one so much, that I went looking for you as soon as I had an idea where to find you. And now that I have, you treat me like a lowly criminal."

He pulled at his restraints, not in an attempt to free himself, but for emphasis.

She could have told her men to release him, but she didn't. Because she didn't accept him, didn't love him. That's why she had left ten years ago, that's why she had fled yesterday before he could catch so much as a glimpse of her.

It had taken him long enough to finally understand. It had taken him so long, he had ruined the best thing that had ever happened to him before his brain finally made the connection.

Tears still rolled hotly down his face, unchecked.

_Oh Katara, I am so sorry._

His mother stood before him now, her cheeks wet like his. In a detached part of his mind, he wondered at how small she was. He was more than a head taller than her, while the last time he'd seen her he had barely reached to her waist. She seemed so fragile now, so vulnerable.

With trembling fingers, she reached out to touch his face, but he jerked his head away.

Her hand sunk to her side again.

"Iroh always let me know how you were. He wrote me of your progress, your struggle to become the man you were supposed to be, despite what your father had done to you.

"I was on my way to Ba-Sing-Se to meet with the both of you to plan the final strike against your father, when I heard that…"

Her voice broke and she took a few deep breaths. His violently boiling emotions suddenly froze as he realized what she had heard. His stomach cramped again, making him almost dizzy with the urge to throw up.

"I received intelligence that you had conspired with your sister to bring down the impenetrable walls of Ba-Sing-Se. That you turned against your uncle and had him thrown into the Fire-Nation's worst prison for treason."

She closed her eyes and fresh tears rolled down her cheeks.

"I heard from reliable sources that you destroyed the world's last hope for peace and balance," she whispered and took a tiny step back from him as if she needed to distance herself. "I had to learn that my own son killed the Avatar."

………

Katara tried to stay in the shadows of the trees and hedges while she made her way towards the Shrine of Mahal. For a reason she could not even begin to understand, Zuko seemed to be there. She could feel it in every shivering cell of her body.

And he was in immense trouble and considerable pain.

She constantly had to stop walking to breathe through the intense onslaught of emotions and the stabbing pain that knifed into her heart.

Compassion started to tug at her anger, worry for him, anxiety. Her own emotions turned against her, weakening her. If she learned nothing else from this experience, then it should be that she could never let him so deep under her skin again.

Repeatedly she reminded herself of his cutting words, but like a blade used too often the effect of those memories dulled with time.

She heard his pleading for her help in her head, his pleading for forgiveness.

And while it tore at her, it showed her the way to where he was.

When she stood at the foot of the white marble walls of the Shrine, she felt him getting weaker. Not as if he was moving away, but as if he was fading.

_Don't you pass out on me__ now, Zuko._

………

For an indeterminably long time, Zuko hung limp in the guard's grip.

Everything he might have told his mother, any excuse he'd come up with, wouldn't undo the shame and dishonour he had brought on himself in Ba-Sing-Se.

It didn't count that it had been Azula's plan that had led to the downfall of the proud city, because he could've stopped her. It didn't matter that the Avatar was still alive, because that was no thanks to him. And it didn't matter that it hadn't been him who had fired the nearly fatal shot, because that only meant that Azula had been stronger, faster and more ruthless than him. He had certainly meant to kill when he fought the boy.

He hung his head and stared onto the floor, the symbols of earth, fire, air and water swirling before his eyes, blurring and swimming into one another, twirling and shifting.

His head pounded with a dull pain, he felt weak and feverish.

The symbol of the white lotus twirled before his eyes, as if wanting him to understand something.

He lifted his head with some effort and looked into his mother's sad eyes.

"You're a member of the order of the White Lotus," he stated, surprised that it had taken him so long to assemble the obvious clues.

Ursa's mouth formed a weak, mirthless smile.

"I _am_ the White Lotus."

* * *

tbc 

Please review.


	17. Decision

_**Chapter 17: Decisions**_

"I _am_ the White Lotus."

Zuko just stared at her. His mind was a black void, as if it had just given up on processing anything.  
Coloured sparks flashed across his vision and his muscles began to contract in painful spasms. He hung between the guards like so much dead weight.

"Zuko, are you all right?" his mother asked. "You look like you need water. Didn't Lee-Sa give you everything you asked for?"

"No," he whispered, his cracked lips hurting and the words rasping like sandpaper along his throat.

"He is lying," the girl's melodic voice came from somewhere at his side. "I gave him so much water last night and again just before he came here, it's a wonder—"

"Katara," he whispered, interrupting her. "The girl you saw yesterday. I need her. I'll die without her."

With a flick of her wrist, his mother had apparently told the guards to hoist him onto a delicate wrought iron bench.

One of the men whispered something to Ursa, that caused her eyes to widen for a second. Then the guard retreated and his mother put her hands into her sleeves, as if to keep herself from touching him.

"Two guards had been posted outside your quarters in the 'Garden of Luxury'. I sent men for the girl this morning, but—"

He narrowed his eyes at his mother.

"What do you want with her?"

"You screamed her name over and over in your sleep," Lee-Sa said helpfully.

He groaned and let his head sink to his chest. He had to stop talking in his sleep.

"The problem is," Ursa continued, "she has somehow eluded the guards, and we don't know where she is."

Her words were like a deadly blow. He gasped, and then stopped breathing. His heart stumbled wildly in his chest, aggravating the pounding in his head until it drowned every sound around him.

She had left him. Of course she would. After what he had said to her last night, it was only understandable. He would – in fact – have been disappointed if she had just waited around for him to come back and apologize. Inwardly, he cheered at her having slipped past the high and mighty Dark Warriors. His Katara, his beautiful, smart, strong woman. She was even strong enough to live without him.

She had to, because his life was about to end.

_I am sorry, Katara. __I love you._

He could feel his heart slowing its exhausting efforts to press his thickening blood through his body, and he stopped his useless efforts at breathing.  
Pain receded, as did any awareness of the outside world.

_Don't you dare pass out on me, Zuko._

His head snapped back up, and he drew a deep breath that hurt like a million needles when the fresh air streamed into his deprived lungs. His body screamed in agony, but it didn't matter.

Katara had talked to him and she was near.

_I'm here, love. Please come for me._

Ursa and Lee'Sa, bent over him with panicked expressions, jumped back with a united cry of surprise when he struggled to his feet and looked wildly around. She was so close, he could almost smell her, could feel her closeness reviving him, even though he had been nearly dead.

_Katara, w__here are you? _

Everyone spun around as a loud crash sounded behind some of the palm-trees. Splinters of glass and ice skittered across the polished marble floor, making even the stoic guards jump out of the way like skittish ostrich-horses.

The guards formed a protective circle around both Ursa and Lee-Sa, while Zuko walked toward the source of all the noise. But before he had taken more than two steps, Katara appeared in his field of vision.

Blades of grass were stuck in her dishevelled hair, and she wore black clothing he had never before seen on her. He realized that those were the clothes he had worn as the Blue Spirit. The beast in him purred in satisfaction at her wearing his things… his scent.

She emptied one of the fountains and formed a thin waterwhip, that neatly cut through the bindings on his wrists.

One of the guards moved towards him, but from the corner of his eye he could see his mother signalling to her men to stand down.

Katara went into a fighting stance, making no move to come closer.

"You think I betrayed you," she said, and he could hear her teeth chattering in between her words even from where he stood. He also noticed the death-like pallor of her skin, the blue, trembling lips. Her hands were shaking and her movements lacked their usual flowing grace. She was as much affected by their separation as he was.  
And although he should have felt sorry for her, he was glad.

"You think I manipulated you," Katara went on. "You think I am your enemy."

He wanted to say no, but he could only shake his head and form the word with his lips. No sound made it past his parched throat.

"Then fight, Prince Zuko."

Before he could make another attempt at speaking, a barrage of wickedly sharp icicles came flying his way. From some hidden reservoir of strength he drew the ability to block the attack with a wall of fire. The moment the icy projectiles penetrated the flaming shield, he let out a long groan of relief. The ice sizzled into billowing steam, and as soon as it was gone he missed it with the desperation of a man dying of thirst.

"More," he croaked, flames flickering from both his hands.

Katara breathed heavily, her cheeks tinted a fine rose, the bluish tinge slowly fading from her lips.

"As you wish."

With a wide movement of both her arms, she drew water from all the fountains in the hall and froze it into a million icy shards. He had not fully guessed her intentions, when she came storming toward him, jingling shards flying in her wake.

He formed a shield at his side, leaving his front unprotected until the last moment. When she was only a few steps away, he charged toward her and sent the shield in a circular motion against the ice, forcing it in a wide circle around him and Katara.

Bright flames interspersed with glittering ice were now all around them. Suddenly motionless, they both held their respective element in place; a beautiful, dangerous mesh of fire and ice, shielding them from prying eyes.

His body trembled at the pleasure of being given at last what it had craved for long torturous hours. But his soul, his heart was not so easily satisfied. He still hungered for her, hungered for more than this connection could give him. Greedily his gaze roamed over her body, her chest, shapeless under the baggy overtunic, heaving with laboured intakes of breath, her lush lips, still a bit colourless from the cold. He craved to see those lips blood-red from kissing, he needed to feel them on his own. On his body. Everywhere.

Born of his brush with death, the need to feel alive in the most primal of ways simmered in his blood, pushing him past reason. When their eyes met, Katara's eyes widened for a moment – then narrowed.

"Zuko."

He did not want to analyze her tone of voice, interpret her body language or the look in her eyes. He just closed the remaining space between them, wound one arm around her and slammed his mouth on hers. Tingling sparks exploded all over his skin.

After a moment's hesitation, her lips opened under his assault so he could slip his tongue in between them. He moaned into her mouth at the sweet fresh taste of her, as his tongue stroked greedily over hers.

And still his body demanded more, and he let her know about its demands by drawing her lower body flush against his.

She froze.

And then he could physically feel how rational sense came back to her in a rush.

Her hand that had just seconds before been placed at the nape of his neck, pulling him to her, now pushed at his chest.

_Zuko, no. Stop it._

It was not her shoving him, but her words that made him stumble backwards. The glittering curtain of fire and ice vanished.

When he saw the gaping faces around them, reality wormed its way back into his mind.

They had an audience, of course. That's why Katara had stopped him.

He heaved a relieved sigh.

There had to be some way to get out of here, so they could get back into that wide comfortable bed at the 'Garden of Luxury' and gorge on each other until they were completely satisfied.

He still had to apologize to Katara, after all.

His mother was the first to recover from obvious surprise and inclined her head slightly into Katara's direction.

"Healer Katara from the Southern Watertribe, I'm honoured to greet you here in the heart of the order of the White Lotus," she smiled brightly. "Although next time you visit, I'd prefer you leave the windows intact."

Now Katara was the one looking surprised.

"How do you know my name?" Then she shook her head as if angry with herself and said, "Of course – Zuko told you, I presume?"

Ursa shook her head.

"I have to admit that I already recognized you when we met yesterday, although in my surprise to find you travelling with my son I acted a bit rashly."

"How do you… why… I mean… how…"

Katara sighed and apparently gave up on trying to vocalize all the questions she had. Zuko had to admit that he might have done a much worse job of it.

Ursa was still smiling.

"Why don't we discuss all your questions over a nice cup of tea?"

Katara made an awkward attempt at smiling amiably.

"Sure, why not… uhm, I mean, thank you, my lady."

"You don't need to address me so formally."

While Zuko watched the exchange between the two women with morbid fascination, he almost missed that the guards were shackling his wrists again.

"What the…"

He swallowed the expletive, but now he had the women's full attention.

"Why do you restrain…" – Katara's brows furrowed as if the full perversity of this situation only now occurred to her – "your son?"

Ursa's smile faltered and her eyes misted over with profound sadness.

"Under the roof of these sacred halls, I cannot allow the murderer of the Avatar to go free, even if he is my own flesh and blood. By the laws of the order, I must punish him."

"But Avatar Aang is alive," Katara said. "Zuko didn't…"

She took a deep breath and gave him a searching look.

_I thought __you'd changed._

He saw the same disappointment in her eyes as he had seen back then, the same cold anger, the same hurt.

"It's not like he didn't try to harm him, but it was his sister who injured Aang."

Ursa seemed to sway a little on her feet. Then she straightened, her face glowing with a smile so bright with joy and happiness, it made Zuko's heart ache.

"Avatar Aang is alive?" she asked, joy sparkling in her eyes. "Katara, you have no idea what this news means to me. I have…" she seemed to catch herself a little and then started to laugh. For a moment, a sound clear like a silver bell filled the air. A sound he hadn't heard for far too long, and until now, he had had no idea how much he'd missed it. Tears stung in the corners of his eyes.

"Agni, where are my manners?" Ursa said, laughter still colouring her voice. "To let you stand here. Please follow me, the tea is served."

She signalled something to the guards who stood behind him, and Zuko felt them remove the chains around his wrists.  
Apparently – although he was not invited for tea – he was supposed to stay.

Both women took their places at a delicate table of wrought iron, the tabletop painted white and depicting the symbol of the White Lotus. Lee-Sa came sailing toward them and sat down too.

"What's she doing here?" Katara asked in a less than polite manner.

Zuko couldn't suppress a wide grin. She might be angry at him, but she was still jealous.

Ursa darted a quick glance from Katara to him and back again, and then the corner of her mouth twitched amusedly.

"Lee-Sa is my cousin. Ozai had a right to demand her as his wife from my family, as compensation for my defection. I wanted to… spare her the fate."

Something told Zuko that this wasn't the whole truth.

Katara fiddled with her teacup and avoided Ursa's gaze.

"She is your cousin and yet she…" She bit down on her lip and waved her hand dismissively. "Well, never mind."

Zuko watched his mother watching Katara for a few moments, before she apparently decided to put her out of her misery.

"My operatives knew of Zuko's arrival the minute he set foot into the city. Ling Fei informed me a short time later that Zuko was travelling with a female companion. Lee-Sa thought it clever to try to separate you from Zuko before we apprehended him."

At the triumphant look Katara gave him, Zuko slightly nodded, giving her credit for having had doubts about Ling Fei from the beginning.

"Then why not 'apprehend' him yesterday in the gardens?"

"Like I said, I was horrified to find out that you were his companion. I'd never have thought that a friend of Avatar Aang would consort with his murderer."

Zuko gritted his teeth against the urge to scream with frustration. Bad enough that he had to stand a few feet away from that table and listen to the women talking about him as if he wasn't there; he also had to listen to his own mother still considering him to be a ruthless killer. "I still don't understand how you come to be in his company."

Katara took a sip of her tea. Her fingers shook slightly as she put the cup back on the table.

Zuko knew how uncomfortable Katara must feel. He knew she was in no mood to defend him to anyone, that maybe he'd be better off to tell his mother himself that he wasn't who she thought him to be, that he had changed. But at the same time, he understood how much more weight Katara's word had in this situation.

"Your son is a good man, Lady Ursa," Katara said finally. "He just tends to act before he thinks."

Ursa chuckled.

"That's exactly what his uncle kept telling me."

Then, unexpectedly, she turned to him, her smile warm but a little hesitant.

"How is he, Zuko?"

He swallowed the lump that suddenly lodged itself in his throat and shrugged.

"Last time I saw him, he was fine," he croaked. "Although I don't know how he fares with trying to teach that little airbender the art of bending fire."

Katara glared at him while Ursa stood and walked to him.

He took a little step back.

"I am sorry, Zuko," she said softly, but did not come closer again. "Apparently I acted on faulty intelligence."

For some absolutely irritating reason, his eyes started to tear up every time he looked at her. Even blinking repeatedly was barely helping matters.

"You could've asked first."

She shook her head.

"I could not risk the safety of the Order. I could not risk my safety."

"What is this order you keep talking about?" Katara asked from behind them.

He was glad of the diversion.

His mother took her seat again and invited him to sit on a bench next to the table.

"The order of the White Lotus," she began, "exists for as long as there are Avatars. Our order tries to protect him, and like him, it tries to keep the balance in the world by keeping the balance between all four elements. But in contrast to the Avatar, we are not a bridge between this world and the Spirit World, we are a bridge between him and the mundane. Our influence reaches to where even an Avatar's powers are limited, into the realm of business and politics. Our high-ranking, influential members belong to royal or wealthy families, or are powerful politicians. But our most revered members, the ones of the highest rank, are the descendants of the Avatars who came before. The highest ranking member, the White Lotus, is a person who descends in the shortest direct line from an Avatar."

Zuko had to try a few times before he could form the words.

"But you said you were the White Lotus."

His mother nodded.

"That is right. I am the granddaughter of Avatar Roku."

Katara gasped loudly. Zuko felt faint again.

"That cannot be," he said. "Father would never have married you. And grandfather would never have consented to the match."

"Right again," his mother said evenly. "After Azulon had ascended the throne and the White Lotus had recovered from the devastating loss of Avatar Roku and all the airbenders, the hopes of the order rested on the return of the Avatar. But then my father proposed a long-term plan to end the war without violence. A young woman, daughter of one of the members, was chosen to be married to Azulon's heir. She should show her husband the errors of the ways of the Fire-Nation, should convert him to the beliefs of the Order."

"Uncle Iroh," Zuko rasped.

"Exactly," his mother said with a nod. "The woman's origins were carefully hidden. Azulon only knew that his son had married the daughter of an influential politician. As a contingency, another young member of the Order was supposed to marry Azulon's younger son." She paused for a while and her eyes were distant as if she looked at something none of them could see. "I volunteered."

………

Katara felt a wave of sympathy wash away the lingering residue of her anger. Zuko was obviously devastated by what his mother had told him. His fingers buried in his hair, he hid his face from all of them.

Nothing of this could be easy for him to bear. Not his mother's suspicions, not the fact that he had just learned that he was the great-grandson of Avatar Roku.

Compelled by something beyond her will or control, Katara stood up and walked to where he sat on the bench. She slightly touched the back of his neck in a comforting gesture.

She gasped with surprise as she felt two strong arms wrapping around her middle in a firm grip. His face pressed against her belly, he murmured incoherent things.

_Please take me away from here, Katara. This is too much, I__'m afraid I'm losing my mind._

She knew she should leave right now, tell him what she had come here to tell him, but it seemed cruel to do that now.

"Lady Ursa," she said, turning to the woman behind her. "Is there a place where I can speak to your son privately?"

"Of course," Ursa said and gestured to Lee-Sa. "You can use the room where he slept last night. Lee-Sa will show you the way."

Zuko mumbled something that faintly sounded like protest, but when she tugged at his hand he got up to follow her.

The clicking of Lee-Sa's high-heeled shoes was the only sound they heard while they walked along the corridors.

Uncharacteristically for her, Lee-Sa did not say a single word. Only once they had arrived at a door Lee-Sa opened for them did she speak to them, in a hushed, respectful tone.

"Lady Ursa selected these rooms to be Prince Zuko's private chambers. If you desire anything, please use the bellpull in the room. A servant will then see to your needs at once."

While Katara gaped, Zuko had the presence of mind to give Lee-Sa a courteous nod and then pull her inside.

The room was elegantly but not too richly furnished. Thick carpets, woven out of a multitude of differently coloured woollen threads, muffled the sound of their footsteps. A wide four-poster bed stood right next to the window.

Katara felt uneasy. She barely trusted herself with Zuko. Trusting herself with him when a bed was within easy reach would be even more difficult.

To avoid his searching look, she turned and walked to the window. For a moment, she forgot about everything else when she saw the gardens around the Shrine from her elevated point of view. Like the carpet in the room, the flowerbeds of the gardens covered the grounds in every direction, pleasing the eye with a staggering variety of colour. She thought she could even see the flaming red of the fire lilies somewhere in the distance.

"Have you ever heard of the Blue Spirit?"

Zuko's voice was deep and raw, and much too close for comfort. She tried to ignore that he was standing right behind her and thought about his peculiar question.

"I have. Why?"

He stepped even closer, the heat of his body seeping into her, stirring a pleasant craving.

"You're wearing his clothes."

She spun around.

"What?"

A lazy, pleased smile played around his lips and she didn't know if she wanted to slap him or kiss him.

"You were the Blue Spirit?"

He nodded.

"But you helped Aang when Zhao had captured him."

His smile disappeared.

"I wanted to capture the Avatar myself, so I had to get him out of there."

Even though she tried, she could not keep the disappointment from showing on her face. She knew it was silly to hope that he'd admit to having secretly worked for the Avatar the whole time, but a childish part of her had hoped that anyway.

He lifted his hand and gingerly brushed a strand of loose hair out of her face.

"I wish I could change the past," he whispered. "But I can't."

She could see the plea for forgiveness in his eyes, and she knew he meant more than what happened last night. He wanted her to know who he was and who he had been, and he wanted her to accept him anyway.

"I know you can't," she said softly, "I don't expect you to."

He drew his hand away and she missed his soft touch as soon as it was gone. But then he enveloped her hand in his, slightly tugging.

"Come, Katara," he said. "I need to tell you something."

He steered her to the bed and warning bells started to ring faintly in her head. But he only invited her to sit and she sunk into the soft mattress, her hand still wrapped securely in his.

"My life as I knew it, the illusion of a happy childhood, shattered when I was nine years old, and my mother left during the night when my grandfather died."

She wondered why he was telling her this now, when what she had really been expecting was some sort of apology.

"During the four following years, I had to endure Azula's nastiness and my father's constant displeasure at everything I did. I was ridiculed and despised and I learned never to give anyone the advantage over me by letting them know what I felt.

"My banishment was only the crowning point of four years of misery. What followed was more misery. A search for someone whom everyone believed dead and gone. A search with no leads, with a trail that had gone cold a hundred years ago. Three years of clinging to the hope that I might yet be able to prove myself to my father, to gain his love and respect, to make him proud of me. Hope I might show everyone my true worth. Three years of bitter disappointment."

His eyes were distant, and just like last night, she saw the shattered fragments of his soul in the liquid amber of his eyes. Then his gaze focused on her, and golden warmth came back into his irises, tinged with deep, dark sadness. He lifted his hand and his fingers skimmed lightly over her brows. Her eyelids fluttered under his reverent touch.

"And then I met you. There at the South Pole. And I looked into those eyes – those beautiful blue eyes – and I wondered how you could ever hide anything from anyone with eyes like this."

He smiled sadly.

"I didn't understand that you had no need to hide your feelings, and it took me a long time to realize that you could not lie, not manipulate or deceive."

His fingers trailed down her cheeks then farther down to her neck.

"Last night, I saw no deception in your eyes, I only saw the truth, and it was a truth too horrible for me to bear."

His thumb swept over her cheek in a circular motion, and she could feel the moisture on her skin that he tried to wipe away. She hadn't even realized she was crying.

"I know I've hurt you grievously, Katara. And I am more sorry than I could possibly say."

She put her hand over his, smiling through her tears.

"It's okay, Zuko. It's all right."

He looked at her disbelievingly.

"Is it?"

His incredulity gave her the perfect opening to say what she meant to. She took a fortifying breath and fixed her gaze on a spot on the wall behind him.

"Zuko, what you said…"

In her mind, she saw his face, the handsome features contorted by rage and betrayal, the golden eyes cold with malice.

"It hurt so much, it almost killed me. We both almost died. And in times like these, we can't risk our lives that way. We have to stay alive and we have to stay sane. I'm afraid I can't do either as long as we're… trying to be lovers while fighting a war."

His fingers turned a few degrees colder around hers. She pulled her hand away and stood up.

"Katara…" he said, but she silenced him with a gesture.

"I'll give you three days to sort things out with your mother," she said as decisively as she could, avoiding to look at him. "We'll meet every day at sunset down at the turtle-duck pond to meditate. On the morning of the fourth day, I will go back to Aang, and I hope you'll come with me. But we won't be lovers anymore; all I can offer you is friendship."

She turned to walk away when strong arms gripped her by her upper arms, spinning her around to face him.

Anger and hurt flared brightly in his eyes.

"How can I not want you, not love you?" he demanded, shaking her a little.

"Zuko, please, don't get angry. I am not rejecting you, I'm just saying…"

He bellowed a short bitter laugh.

"Right before you came crashing through that window, I had been prepared to die," he said. "But I did not feel pain, because close to my heart I held every moment that we've spent together. And my deepest regret, my only regret was that I had not had time enough to love you, to make you as happy as you deserve to be. Because you have made me happier than I have ever been in my entire life."

His eyes softened again, and he drew her closer, his lips skimming over her cheek.

"Please don't take that away from me," he whispered, hot breath almost searing her skin. "You have to forgive me."

"I do forgive you, Zuko," she said. "That is not the reason."

He rubbed his left cheek against hers, the smooth ridges of the remaining scars sending little thrilling sparks deep into her belly, making her tremble slightly.

"Then tell me you don't love me," he whispered into her ear. "Tell me now."

She gasped as she felt his teeth lightly nip at her earlobe.

"I will love you until I die," she said breathlessly.

His mouth left her ear and moved down her neck. She shuddered, suddenly glad he held her up, because her knees started to buckle.

"And still you want to be just friends?"

Her eyes slipped shut as his breathy whisper fluttered over the skin of her shoulder. With his teeth, he pulled the rough material of her dark tunic out of the way, exposing more skin to his assault.

"It has to be that way," she said.

His heated caresses suddenly stopped, but before she could feel relief at having been spared further testing of her resolve, his mouth came down hard on hers. Her knees gave out completely under the intensity of the kiss.

If he could do that to her with just a kiss, wasn't she right to stay away from him, to cling to what little sanity and good sense she had left?

When he broke the kiss, they both breathed so hard, the harsh sound was the only one in the room for a few moments.

"Do you mean that?" he asked.

Unleashed need glowed in his eyes, dark and deep. Losing herself in that abyss, as tempting as it seemed right now, could not end well.

"I do," she whispered.

Another bruising kiss battered against her resolve, melting her insides with its heat, tearing at her heart with the love emanating from every pore of his body.

"And now, do you still mean it now?"

Their bodies were pressed flush against each other, his arousal obvious even through all the layers of clothing. Her traitorous body answered with a tightening in her womb that shot as a throbbing pulse to the juncture between her legs.

She did not only have to go against him, against what her heart was telling her; she had to act against what her body was screaming at her.

"I do," she said on an exhale.

Zuko let go of her arms so suddenly, she stumbled for a moment, trying to regain her balance.

"This is wrong, Katara," he said. The fire was gone from his eyes; they were veiled by grey mist. His shoulders slumped and he drew his hands through his hair in a helpless gesture. "It would not be wrong for us to love each other."

She balled her hands to tight fists, concentrating on the pain of her nails biting into the soft flesh of her palms.

"I'll see you at sunset, Zuko," she said while hastening to the door.

Only when she was outside the Shrine did she allow herself to cry.

* * *

tbc 

Please let me know what you think.

**_A/N2:_** If you think that last scene was slightly familiar, it probably is. I shamelessly stole it (rephrased, though) from one of my favorite novels. Extra points for anyone who knows which. :)


	18. Full Disclosure

**_A/N: _**Apparently, I am not the only author ever to steal things from others. Most of your suggestions mentioned books that indeed had similar scenes, but I actually referred to the parting scene of 'Jane Eyre' from Charlotte Bronte.

**_

* * *

_**

**_Chapter 18: Full Disclosure_**

Zuko had not moved since Katara had left the room. Black despair loomed invitingly at the edge of conscious thought.

His mother hadn't given him the warm welcome he had dreamed of for years. Instead she heaped upon him a burden of knowledge that threatened to choke him. And the one person who could've helped him to deal with it had just declared that things were getting too complicated and too dangerous. Well, no kidding. The story of his life.

It would be so easy for him to give in to his sorrows, to roll into a ball on top of that irritatingly colourful bedspread and sob himself into oblivion.

_You must never give in to despair. Allow yourself to slip down that road__, and you surrender to your lowest instincts. In the darkest times, hope is something you give yourself. That is the meaning of inner strength._

Iroh's voice, calm and comforting, sounded through his thoughts. He knew the deep truth that those wise words held. He knew it had been despair that had made him act so inexcusably toward Katara, and he would not let it ruin things for him even more.

Katara hadn't left him, she had only – for rather watery reasons – declared that they couldn't be together as lovers. She had also said she'd love him until she died.

He smiled. That meant he had time enough to change her opinion about the friendship business.

A growl from his stomach reminded him that he hadn't had anything to eat yet, and – come to think of it – hadn't eaten anything last night either. He had barely touched the bellpull, when a servant in black robes appeared and asked after his wishes.

Zuko ordered something to eat and lots of it, and then plopped back down on the bed to plot his next steps. He'd see Katara again in a few hours; sunset was not too far away. He would be unassuming, sweet and charming, not pressuring her into anything, just showing her his shiniest side.

When the door opened, he barely spared a glance at the dark-clad female rolling in a teacart. He had been raised to treat servants in just such a way, and this was no exception. But when the woman started to tell him what cook had prepared to him, the sound of her voice immediately caught his attention.

"… roasted comodo-chicken, prepared just the way you used to like it, and additionally—"

"Mother," he said.

She stopped talking and looked at him searchingly.

"I hoped to spend some time with you, Zuko," she said softly. "I suppose you won't be here for long."

Unable to help the childish reaction, he scowled at her.

"I am not in the mood to hear any more about the Avatar or the balance of the four elements."

His mother unsuccessfully tried to hide a smile.

"I suppose you have your hands full just balancing two of them."

His jaw dropped at the uncomfortably personal remark.

"Mommy!"

They both flinched the second the word had left his mouth. He certainly had not meant to say it.

His mother took a tentative step toward him.

"It's been a while since you called me mommy," she said quietly.

Zuko sat back down on the bed, scowling at some flower on the carpet and mightily tempted to slap himself.

"You weren't exactly around to hear it, were you?"

His mother stood motionless for a while, and he didn't dare to look up at her.

At length, she walked back to the teacart, that emanated mouth-watering smells, and pushed it into his direction.

"I hope you'll enjoy your meal, Zuko."

Then she turned to go.

"Wait."

She stopped, but didn't turn to him.

"You can stay if you want to."

She turned around to him, her face blank.

"I don't want to bother you."

He heaved a sigh and ran his hand though his hair.

"I am sorry, mother. Please stay."

She sat down on a chair next to the bed while he eagerly took stock of everything on the cart, stuffing a piece of fresh bread into his mouth while prying a leg off the roasted comodo-chicken with his bare hands.

"…mhm… sorry," he mumbled around the food in his mouth, and gestured with the meat in his hand. "Do you want some of this?"

His mother smiled widely, shaking her head.

"No thank you, Zuko. This is all for you, I've already eaten."

He nodded, absurdly pleased that he did not have to share, and not in the least ashamed of letting his mother see him eat like a savage. In part, it was intentional, a weird urge to repel her in one way or the other.

"I think you might have a lot of questions, Zuko," his mother said after watching him for a few minutes. "I'm prepared to answer all of them."

He looked up at her, thoughtfully chewing on a grilled tomato.

"You could start by telling me why the Order really wanted you to marry father."

Her eyes widened.

"I told you just now—"

He shook his head.

"If everything you told us about the order is true, it makes no sense for them to marry off the daughter of their highest ranking member, the heiress to the throne of the Order, to an insignificant second son. I understand that you were too young to marry Uncle Iroh, which would've made sense, but I don't understand why they would let you marry father."

Making a wide gesture with the rest of the bread, he invited her to explain herself.

"You're much smarter than your girlfriend gives you credit for," Ursa said.

He snorted.

"She said I tend to act before I think. She didn't say there was anything wrong with my thinking."

Ursa chewed on her bottom lip for a moment, and then looked at him.

"Do you remember the legend of Zu and La?"

Zuko frowned, not seeing the connection to his question, but nodded anyway.

"There is a part of the legend that hasn't been told to a Fire-Nation child for over a century.  
"The story is that the sun and the moon have been lovers from the moment the spirits created them. But their pathways on the sky only cross at an eclipse, so sometimes they chose a mortal form to be together. Agni, our god of sun and fire, who gives us our bending powers, and the spirit of the moon, La, who gives the waterbenders their powers, have turned into the dragons Zu and La, and the human child they created carried within him the best of both natures."

Zuko made an effort to close his gaping mouth.

"But over the centuries the more forceful characteristics of the dragons, and Agni's dominating brightness and arrogance, slowly overpowered La's soothing influence in the bloodline of the royal family. Since a Firelord was only allowed to marry someone from a small circle of Fire-Nation aristocratic families, those negative traits became more pronounced with every generation.  
"With Sozin, Azulon and Ozai, the dragon bloodline produced their most ruthless, ambitious and greedy men."

Zuko held up a hand to stop her, finally seeing where this was going.

"So what you mean to say is that the Order hoped to somehow breed the evil right out of the bloodline?"

Ursa sighed, but nodded.

"It sounds rather crude, put that way, but…"

"So I am what? A failed breeding experiment?"

His mother made a helpless gesture, as if she wanted to touch him, but her hand sunk in her lap again.

"We did not fail with you, Zuko," she said softly.

Understanding dawned.

"Ah, I see. Azula is the disappointment then. Is that why you left?"

She shook her head decisively.

"No, of course not. I loved Azula, I still do, but I always thought I failed both her and your father by not living up to the hopes the Order had invested in me."

Zuko pushed the cart away from him, suddenly not hungry anymore.

"So what happened the night you left?"

His stomach lurched in a sickening way as he watched her folding her hands tightly together, as if bracing herself for something extremely painful.

"Azulon found out," she said, barely audible. "When Lu Ten died, for some reason Azulon went through the complete family history, his and those of his daughters-in-law, and he found inconsistencies in mine. From there, it didn't take him long to learn who I was.  
"To prevent any descendant of Avatar Roku from sitting on the throne of the Fire-Nation, he gave your father the order to kill you. He had to do it with his own hands; no other solution would have pleased Azulon."

Zuko wished he hadn't eaten so much; he felt as if he was going to be sick.

"I don't know if he would've done it, but at that time I didn't see how he could possibly refuse his father's command and stay alive himself."

She wiped at her face and tried to smile at him.

"Remember when I told you how a mother would do anything to protect her children?"

He nodded, unable to speak.

"I killed your grandfather that night, Zuko," she said, confirming Zuko's worst suspicion. "I gave him a poison that first clouded his mind, so he told his advisors that he wanted Ozai to be his successor. And then the poison killed him.  
"The royal medics would've found out about the poison as soon as they took one look at his body, so I had to flee that very night. Not even your father could've prevented my execution for treason had I been in the palace for an hour longer than I was."

………

The setting sun had painted the white walls of the Shrine a bright orange by the time Zuko made his way through the throngs of tourists walking back to the garden's outer gates.

He was riding on an ostrich-horse provided for him by the guards. Next to him, on an ostrich-horse of her own, was Lee-Sa, who had insisted on accompanying him for reasons of security. If he had been in the mood to laugh, he would have at the preposterous claim.

But since his mother seemed to be equally concerned with his safety, he'd given in, with the explicit condition that she would stay out of Katara's sight.

While the horse trotted toward his destination, he thought about what his mother had told him – not that thinking about it had gotten him anywhere so far. It all made sense in a horrifying, logical way. He had yet to find a weakness in her story that would discredit it as lies; the pieces fit too nicely.  
Besides, why would she voluntarily confess to something as horrendous as cold-blooded murder?

They sat together in silence for a long time after her confession, and then his mother stood up and left the room. He hadn't called her back; he wouldn't have known what to say to her.

Should he be grateful to her for saving his life? Should he somehow try and make her feel better over what she had done?

He had had no idea, and so he had done nothing, said nothing. He still didn't know what to do when he met her again.

When the ostrich-horses drew near the high rhododendron hedges, he spied a lonely black shadow standing unmoving next to one of the hedges.

A Dark Warrior.

"What is he doing here?" he asked, irritated.

"Your mother appointed him to protect Lady Katara," Lee-Sa said, as if this was the most obvious thing in the world.

Zuko's fists tightened on the reins.

"I'm protecting her."

Lee-Sa turned to him and smiled indulgently.

"Sure you are, as long as you're with her, but in the meantime…" – she gestured toward the towering shadow – "Li is her appointed guard."

"Li?" Zuko asked through gritted teeth. "Is he a firebender?"

Lee-Sa looked more confused with every moment.

"Yes. Your mother thought—"

"I don't care what my mother thought," he said harshly. "If there has to be someone guarding her, it will be an earthbender or no one at all."

With a bit more gusto than necessary, he hopped off his ostrich-horse and strode toward the turtle-duck pond, doing his best not to break out into a run.

When he rounded the edge of the rhododendron hedges, he was greeted by a sight that made him stop dead in his tracks.

Katara, wearing her Water Tribe clothes, was sitting at the edge of the pond, holding something in the palms of her hands, giggling and cooing at it.

He crept closer until he could see that what she held in her hand was a baby turtle-duck that was making rather cute noises and was attacking Katara's nose with its little beak.

Never before had he heard that turtle-ducks could be petted, and it was even more curious that the mother of the little duckling didn't object to her offspring flirting with a girl much older than him. Not to mention being of the wrong kind.

"Who's that?" Zuko asked after he had sat down beside her, an action she had failed to notice or acknowledge.

"I haven't given him a name yet," Katara said, tenderly caressing the soft side of the duckling's neck.

Zuko found his love for turtle-ducks rapidly ceasing. They weren't even all that cute, if he really thought about it.

"What about Li?" he suggested grumpily.  
He had still barely digested the fact that Katara had been spending the last few hours in the company of another man, another firebender. And one of the coveted Dark Warriors on top of everything.

"Hmm," Katara said, drawing back a little and looking at the little animal with a critical eye. "Like tall, dark and handsome Li who was sent to be my bodyguard? Sounds okay to me. What do you think?"

The newly named Li made an affirmative sound and continued to enjoy Katara's attentions. Zuko was sure there was a bit of smugness in his little, beady eyes.

He held out his hand, palm up.

"Can I hold him for a moment?"

Katara put her hands next to his and the little duckling waddled fearlessly over into Zuko's much bigger palm. The tiny feet were soft and a little damp on his hands, and the feathery underside of the animal's soft belly tickled his palm.

"All right, Li," Zuko began earnestly and the duckling cocked its head a little to the side as if it was really listening.

"See the beautiful girl right there in the blue dress?" Li gave a short quack. "Yeah. Just so you know, she's my girlfriend, and I'd appreciate it if you keep your… well, your beak off her, understood?"

Li quacked again.

"I thought we'd agreed that I'm not your girlfriend."

Zuko carefully studied the turtle-duck sitting on his hand.

"I didn't agree on anything. It was your hen-witted idea."

"Hen-witted?" she sputtered, the outburst scaring Li so much that he expressed an obvious anxiety to be back in the water.

Zuko put his hand on the grass and Li hopped from his hand and hastened into the pond.

"It was a well-considered solution to an impossible situation," she said after a while.

"It was a decision made while you were hurting from my idiocy and half-mad with anger and cold." Feeling her seething at his arrogant tone, he deliberately softened his voice before he continued. "How could you think even for a moment that this would work out the way you thought – after everything we had?"

She scooted away from him, wrapping her arms around her knees.

"I thought you'd at least respect my decision."

"I will respect it and keep my distance if that's what you wish, but you can't force me to think it's brilliant."

She turned to him and he sobered at the look of honest distress in her eyes.

"Zuko, this is not just about the two of us."

He lifted an eyebrow, surprised.

"See, and here I thought it was."

Katara rested her chin on her knees and watched the mother turtle-duck ushering her children into the reeds where they probably had their nest.

"After you left me last night, I was lying there on the floor for hours, not really thinking, but somehow… seeing things. And I thought about all the people our being together would hurt."

The last rays of the sun turned the sky a sallow colour, and the grass grew damp and cold.

"So this is about him, isn't it?"

"It's not just about him," she protested weakly, apparently knowing exactly whom he meant. "Think of your mother…"

"She'd be delighted," he said lightly. "Turns out that Agni and La are something of an item."

She glared at him, surely thinking he was making fun of her.

"Or your uncle…"

"Who already saw us together, remember?"

"Or your people, what will they say when their crown prince comes home with a water peasant?"

"They won't actually be hurt, so what's your point?"

"Or Sokka."

He laughed mirthlessly at her useless attempts to avoid the heart of the matter.

"Sokka won't be hurt and you know it. He'll be furious and he'll try to kill me, and he'll try to make you feel guilty, but he won't be hurt. I doubt that he ever truly imagined that he would have a say in your choice of a boyfriend. So it really just comes down to him… to Aang."

"So what if it's just because of Aang?" she cried. "He's the Avatar, he's the world's hope for ending this war. I don't think he should fight the battle of his life with a broken heart."

He fell silent for a while, unable to completely dismiss her reasoning.

"Maybe that's how it's supposed to be," he offered after some time. "Do you remember how uncle said that we were given this gift for a reason?"

She shook her head defiantly.

"That doesn't mean we have to be together… that way."

"No," he said and put his hand lightly on her shoulder. "We don't have to." She flinched but did not move away. "We want to."

He took it as another good sign that she didn't object to that statement.

"Let's assume for a moment that your plan will work: for how long do you plan on stringing the poor boy along before you tell him you'll never love him like he loves you?"

Her rigid posture relaxed a little under the circling caress of his hand on her shoulder.

"First we have to win the war… defeat the Firelord…"

Again she didn't protest when he put his arm around her, shielding her from the chilly night air.

"All right. So, after the victory, you'll tell him that you never loved him and never will, and only refrained from telling him sooner so that he would not be distracted from winning the war? I wonder how he'll feel then."

She rested her forehead on her knees, hiding her face.

"You're horrible, Zuko," she whispered.

"But am I right?"

He took her silence as a yes.

"What about us, Zuko?" she said after long moments, her voice tear-choked. "What about what we're doing to each other?"

"I told you I was sorry. I…"

She lifted her head and looked at him. At the sight of her unshed tears, his heart cramped painfully.

"I didn't just mean what you did last night," she said. "But I know that I haven't forgiven you for half the things you did in the past, that I have all those preconceptions…"

She shook her head, dejection like a dark shadow in her eyes.

"How is this ever going to work, Zuko? And how will we deal with it if it doesn't?"

He wrapped his arm tighter around her.

"I never took you for a coward, Katara."

They sat in silence until the night was cold and dark around them. Then a gust of cold wind ruffled the reeds in the pond, and Katara snuggled closer.

"You're always so warm," she said as if she needed an excuse for her action.

Chuckling lightly, he pressed a quick kiss into her hair. The smell of warm summer rain and blooming flowers made him close his eyes in bliss for a short moment. Then he held his hand palm up and produced a fist-sized ball of fire. After some manipulation, the ball turned into the shape of a heart, red-orange and slowly pumping.

"That's because my heart burns for you," he whispered, half-afraid she would be laughing at his overly romantic statement.

She didn't answer, but instead he heard the swishing of water as some of it floated toward her from the pond. It froze into an icy lump and then turned into something that roughly resembled a heart. She brought it slowly toward his red-hot fire. Zuko had to force himself to keep his eyes open as the stream of their combined energy started flowing through him.

The heart of ice melted, forming a flat puddle.

"This is what happens to me when you're near me," Katara whispered.

Zuko looked at her face as she tilted it upward to look at him. Her eyes were dark-blue, faintly reflecting the fire, and her lips looked like glittering rubies in the red firelight.

His eyelids drooped as he slowly bent down to her. Sounds and pictures lightly tugged at his mind, telling him that he'd probably have a vision once he closed his eyes.

A vision was the last thing he wanted right now. He slowly moved toward her, giving her plenty of time to tell him to stop. But as her lips parted slightly he didn't hear a no, just a faint sigh that sent a warm breath like a soft caress over his face.  
His eyelids felt like solid lead and it became increasingly harder to hold on to reality, which was so much better than any vision at the moment.  
He could almost taste her, the soft lips only a hair's breadth away, when his lids finally closed. Movement stopped, as much as he wished and strained to close the remaining distance between their lips.

Darkness enveloped him, but he held onto the calming feeling of her body securely nestled in his arms. When his mind's eye opened, he found himself sitting at the turtle-duck pond in the palace garden, Katara in his arms just like she had been in reality.

He wasted no more time. He kissed her with every bit of dammed up feeling he had, and it felt so bloody good, he didn't care if it was real or not.

_You know, I don't think these are visions of the future, this is your wishful thinking. _

Even though she obviously tried to sound sarcastic, even her thoughts were as breathless as her little moans and sighs, that stoked his passion to unbearable heights.

_Hmm… don't care.__ Just don't stop, please._

They did, however, stop in the midst of eagerly groping each other, as an inhuman shriek sounded through the peaceful garden.

Seconds later, a little boy came sprinting toward him. His clothes were slightly askew, his hair ruffled and his top-knot in a rather sad state.

"Roku," Katara said, sounding a little surprised.

Zuko, too, was surprised to find that he somehow knew the boy's name.

Hot on the boy's heels was a dark-haired, blue eyed girl – clearly Mai – brandishing a water whip. At the sight of her parents, she gracefully bent the water into a nearby bush and proceeded to look like an angel.

"Mai threatened me with a water whip," Roku accused, unwept tears of humiliation glittering in his amber eyes.

"Roku pinched me!"

"Mai… insulted me."

"I did not!"

"You did!"

"Did not"

"Did, too!"

"ENOUGH!"

Zuko started at Katara's loud command, just like the rest of his family did.

Mai bit her bottom lip and looked contrite. Roku gaped at his mother with wide eyes.

Katara stood up and walked up to Mai.

"Young lady, you'll come with me and we'll talk about using waterbending in the gardens. And Roku," she said, turning to the boy. "You'll talk to your father about fighting with your sister."

As if expecting his immediate demise, the boy trudged over to him and knelt down before him, head bent so low his forehead touched the ground.

Zuko felt a growing unease. He had no idea how to talk to a child. His father had never talked to him in any other role as the Firelord, so he had no personal experience to fall back on.

"I am sorry, father," Roku said. "I meant no disrespect."

The boy's seriously spoken words echoed through his soul and woke a memory so painful, it almost brought tears to his eyes. It was only then that he remembered that he had a role-model. Iroh had been more like a father to him than his own father ever had.

"Come here, Roku," he said softly and gestured for the boy to sit next to him. "Tell me what happened."

A sad little face was lifted to him, and a sharp sense of protectiveness clenched around his heart. The boy's skin was a shade darker than his own, the eyes not as slanted as his, but apart from that the boy looked a lot like he had at that age.

"Mai said that when I'm Firelord people will laugh at me because I cannot bend fire."

Zuko remembered too well Azula's teasing about his seemingly inferior bending powers.

"I told you that boys learn bending a lot later than girls. I learned it much later than my sister and she was two years younger than I."

The boy's eyes shone with tentative hope.

"Really? Were you afraid you'd never learn it, too?"

He nodded.

"Aunt Azula was already a firebending prodigy, while all I could create were black puffs of smoke."

Roku's eyes turned even rounder than usual.

"But dad, you're, like, the greatest firebender ever!"

Zuko didn't know if he wanted to laugh or cry. He knew exactly how the boy felt; he used to look at his father with much the same undiluted admiration.

"See, that is how things will turn out for you," he said, swallowing his emotions and smiling encouragingly. "We might learn bending later than the girls, but then we're much better at it."

A sharp sting on the back of his head made him look to his side.

"I heard that," Katara said, barely masking her amusement. "And Roku, it's not true. Women are just as good at bending as men."

She sat down next to them, Roku between them, and gave her son a peck on the cheek.

"Mai has to stay in her room for the rest of the day," she said.

Roku sniffed indignantly.

"Good."

Then he puffed up his chest and squared his slim shoulders.

"I will learn bending one day, and I'll train and train until I am good enough for you to be proud of me, dad."

An icy lump of dread lodged itself in Zuko's throat. Had he made his son feel worthless? Was he as horrible a father as his own had been?

"But… but I am proud of you, Roku," he said, his voice wavering. "I have been from the moment I first saw you."

Roku looked at him incredulously.

"Didn't mommy tell you?" Zuko asked, looking over at Katara for help.

Roku furrowed his brow and turned to Katara.

She smiled widely.

"It's true, he was. After he'd held you for the first time, the nurses almost had to use force to pry you out of his arms to bathe you. Then they sent him away because he was bugging them endlessly by asking millions of questions, and after he went outside he was shouting all through the palace that he had a son. He hugged everyone he came across, even armed guards and servants. It took some of the poor souls days to recover from the shock."

Zuko smiled and pulled his son onto his lap, wrapping his arms securely around him.

"I was proud of your first smile, your first word and your first step. I am proud of everything you do. You're my son and I love you. Don't you ever forget that."

Two spindly arms came around his neck and he gingerly held his son's slight body to his chest, unsure if it was the boy or he who was shaking like a leaf. He closed his eyes against the pain of the memory that his father had not once held him like this.

When he opened his eyes again, it wasn't a child's body, but that of Katara he held in a squashing embrace against his chest, unable to let go.

_Oh Zuko__, I am so sorry._

He wanted to tell her that he was all right, but he was afraid his voice would betray him if he spoke.

_I had no idea how deeply __he hurt you by treating you like he had. _

A bitter laugh shook him for a moment.

_You don't know the half of it._

And then, with his face hidden against her hair, he told her everything about that night ten years ago.

"He would have murdered me, of that I am sure. My own father cared more for his honour than he cared for his son."

Katara soothingly caressed his back and shoulders.

"I think you've always known that he wasn't worth your love and admiration," she said softly. "Why not give it to the one person who risked everything to save your life?"

As if a dense fog had finally lifted, he suddenly knew so much more than he had just a few minutes ago.  
His mother didn't expect him to thank her for what she'd done. She was not sorry, she'd do it again in a heartbeat, because she loved him unreservedly.

"I haven't only come here to find my mother," he whispered, overwhelmed by the sudden rush of understanding. "I also came to finally let go of my father."

They broke their tight embrace shortly later, and then awkwardly climbed to their feet.

"I think I know now what I must do," he said. "Thank you, Katara."

She smiled.

"You're welcome. Good night, Zuko."

He could not resist the lure of her smiling lips, and before she could protest he pressed his mouth to hers, stealing an achingly sweet kiss from her. When he drew back, the look of naked longing in her eyes almost brought him to his knees.

"Good night, Katara," he said softly, turned and walked away.

* * *

tbc 

Please review.


	19. Dark Warrior

**_A/N:_** I apologize for the long wait. It took some time to write a chapter this long, and I also had to battle a nasty case of self-doubt regarding this story.

**_A/N2:_** I loved and cherished every one of the lovely reviews I got and want to say thanks to all my faithful readers.  
Loved the remark about Rochester having the same burn mark as Zuko, I hadn't even thought of that.  
Also, many of you commented on the 'My heart burns for you' line, which I took from one of the Chibi specials, because it's so cheesy and soooo Zuko. I can absolutely see him saying something like that. I'm planning on using at least two more lines from the Chibi Specials, so watch out for them.  
I was touched by the love for my little turtle-duck, and I'm sure little Li will make another appearance.

All right, end of ridiculously long author's note and on with the ridiculously long chapter.

_

* * *

_

**_Chapter 19: Dark Warrior_ **

When Zuko stepped out from between the towering green hedges, he looked around for Lee-Sa. Although both their ostrich-horses were still tethered to a tree and grazing peacefully, she was nowhere in sight.

"I'm going back to the Shrine," he announced to no one in particular, and went to mount his ostrich-horse.

"Wait," Lee-Sa's breathless voice came from somewhere behind the hedges. "I am coming."

Moments later, she came quickly dashing down a narrow path, smoothing her clothes and patting her hair while she went.

Zuko lit a small fire in his hand and looked at her.

Her formerly carefully applied lip paint was now mostly gone, traces of it visible on her cheeks and neck, her clothes were rumpled and her hair looked like she had rolled around on grass. Which, on second thought, she probably had.

Seeing his knowing smirk, Lee-Sa blushed crimson.

"Been busy, dear cousin?" he asked, snickering.

A dark shadow darted from between the hedges toward the turtle-duck pond. Clearly Katara needed a guard not as easily distracted.

"I thought Dark Warriors were sworn to celibacy?" Zuko asked, still smirking.

Lee-Sa squared her shoulders and lifted her pert little nose.

"That's a common misconception," she said indignantly. "They're sworn to discretion, that's all."

They got on their respective mounts and turned them into the direction of the Shrine.

"So they are allowed to marry?" he asked.

"Yes," Lee-Sa said. "Quite a few of them are married, actually. Li and I…"

She trailed off, smiling to herself.

Zuko raised an eyebrow.

"You're going to get married, aren't you?"

She nodded, her smile lighting the darkness around them.

He knew now why he had liked this woman from the beginning, without being the slightest bit stirred by her beauty. She strongly resembled his mother.

"Maybe it's not so bad after all, that Li is guarding Katara," he said.

They rode in silence, while Zuko thought about the news regarding the Dark Warriors.

"So if celibacy isn't a requirement, what does it take to become a guard of the White Lotus?"

………

"Prince Zuko, I am sorry, but you cannot under any circumstances enter Lady Ursa's chambers!"

Zuko had to admire the protectiveness and bravery of the little woman fiercely guarding the door of his mother's bedchamber. But as it was, he would not be kept from what he had come here to do.

"I will not argue with you," he said, and shoved the woman roughly to the side.

Before she could grab some part of his clothing to hold him back, or gather her wits enough to scream for the guards, he barrelled through the door and locked it behind himself.

When he turned around, he found the chamber empty.

About a dozen candles lit the room, and the strong scent of fire-lilies came from a vase on the dressing table. In her private chambers, his mother seemed to favour bright colours, red and orange chiefly amongst them. One could easily think oneself in one of the rooms at the palace.  
Or, to be more precise, it actually felt as if he was in his mother's room at the palace, where he had spent so much time as a little boy, never far from the mother he loved so much.

Dazed by the onslaught of memories that had been buried for so long, he walked over to a stool on the far side of the room and sat down heavily. The energetic euphoria he had felt just a few minutes ago dwindled to nervous anxiety.  
What if he was too late?

"Zuko."

His head shot up at her voice, and he would have stood up if he had been able to think of it. But he could only stare at the vision before him. His mother, looking as young as he remembered her, clad in a fluffy burgundy dressing-gown, her hair falling in soft, slightly damp waves down to her hips.

"Mommy," he whispered.

Tears stung in his eyes as he saw her taking a few tentative steps towards him, her hands clasped tightly together.

"I thought it was my fault," he said. One tear rolled down his face, probably the first of many. "I thought you left because I couldn't make you love me enough to stay."

He lifted his eyes to her and saw her face wet with tears. Not knowing what else to say or do, he held his arms out for her in a silent plea, like a child that wants to be taken into its mother's arms.

"Can we please forget that yesterday ever happened?"

Ursa nodded briefly, and in the blink of an eye, was in his arms, clasping him to her, murmuring words of love and regret into his hair, while he told her how much he had missed her.  
For an interminable time they clung to one another, crying and laughing and whispering things, pouring out emotions that had to be held back for almost ten years.  
When they finally let go off each other, each slightly embarrassed at the outburst, Zuko glimpsed something on his mother's shoulder just before she straightened her dressing-gown.

"What does that mark on your shoulder mean?" he asked.

His mother blushed a dark red.

"Well,…" she said, but trailed off.

"I'm just asking because I have something similar," he said and bared his own shoulder. "It started out just being… well, something else, but now it has turned into this."

Ursa averted her eyes, still blushing, giving him the impression that he had just indecently exposed himself.

"Can I please explain this to you tomorrow?" she said, her gaze glued to the floor, even after he had put his tunic back. "We have both had a long day."

Her avoidance of this topic, about which she clearly knew something, brought him back to the reality of the fact that they still kept many secrets from each other.  
Secrets he was determined to learn.

He stood up, towering over her for only a second before he sunk down to one knee, his head bent and one fist braced on the floor.

"Revered White Lotus, granddaughter of Avatar Roku, please accept my plea to join the ranks of the guards of the Order. I am willing to do whatever it takes to prove my worth, my loyalty, and my adherence to the laws and the beliefs of the Order."

Lee-Sa had told him the formal request to join the guards and he had learned it by heart on the short ride back to the Shrine. She had also hinted at what to expect from the initiation rituals, mostly telling him with a smirk that they would involve lots and lots of excruciating pain.

"Zuko," his mother said softly. "You don't need to join the guards to be a member the Order. You're the heir to the throne of the White Lotus, being a descendant of Roku yourself."

"Although that is true," Zuko said, with his head still bent, "I pray to Agni that you will live a long life, and that meanwhile Avatar Aang will have children himself, who – if I understood Order law correctly – will be entitled to the throne in my stead. In the meantime, I want to serve the Order. And more than that, I want to serve you. To further the goals of the Order, and to protect your life. After you giving me mine, and saving it at least once, it's the least I can do."

A gentle hand rested on the crown of his head, and he closed his eyes.

"Very well then, Prince Zuko, son of Firelord Ozai and Lady Ursa, heir apparent to the throne of the Fire-Nation, and heir presumptive to the throne of the White Lotus, I accept your request to join the Order's guards. You will have to go through the trials as all of those brave men did."

Then she tugged at his clothes, motioning to him to get up.

In a tone much less formal than the one she had used before, she said, "And now you should really go to bed, because if you intend to go through with becoming a guard, tomorrow will be a very trying day."

He doubted he would find any sleep what with Katara so far away from him, but he bowed a and smiled at his mother.

"As you wish, mother."

But before he could turn to go, his mother reached up to him and gently traced the silvery lines that were left of his scar.

"I wish I could've prevented him doing that to you," she whispered.

From her fingertips, piercing pinpricks of pain shot into the sensitive tissue.

"So do I."

She drew her hand away and gave him a lopsided smile.

"Although from the way Iroh wrote about it, I feared that half your face was burned off."

Zuko's smile faltered.

"It was."

"But—"

"Katara healed most of it."

His mother nodded.

"I am glad you've found her. Good night, my son."

………

As expected, Zuko had barely slept that night. Mostly because he missed Katara sleeping in his arms, but also because he was far too anxious about the upcoming events.

The sun had barely begun peaking over the horizon, when he was already finished with a light breakfast and a few stances and exercises supposed to prepare him for things to come.

Lee-Sa had told him that part of the initiation ritual was for him to fight against three other guards. In old times, one had to fight against benders of the other three elements. The guards still held to the tradition of three fights, although now – since there were no airbenders anymore – one of the fights would be with conventional weapons.  
He hoped he would find the time to fetch his swords from 'The Garden of Luxury'.

To his surprise, he was summoned to his mother's room right after his exercises.

"The first part of a guard's initiation," she told him while leading him along a long corridor, "is learning about the ancient history of the four people living in our world."

They went down a long, winding staircase and arrived in a large room with a vaulted ceiling, just like the throne-room above.

While the throne-room and the rest of the Shrine looked not older than a couple of decades, the room in which he stood now had an ancient feel to it.  
Huge tapestries, their colours fading and darkened with old age, covered the walls from floor to ceiling. The floor itself wasn't made of white marble like the rest of the Shrine, but of dark wood, that swallowed the sound of their steps.  
In the centre of the room, a little fountain splashed into a basin of black marble.

"This is the most sacred place of the Order of the White Lotus. Only acolytes or members of the order are allowed in here."

Zuko looked around himself and up at the few sky-lights that faintly illuminated the room.

"I thought that weddings took place here," he said.

"No," Ursa said. "This room is behind the Wedding Hall."

"It looks so much older than the building."

Ursa nodded, smiling at his observation.

"That is right. Some of the artefacts you see here are as old as the Order itself. The seat of the Order was always in this place, right at the Spring of Life, but over the thousands of years buildings crumbled and new ones had to be erected. The Shrine of Mahal is our newest and I think most beautiful home."

They walked over to one of the tapestries and Zuko studied the pictures woven into the fabric in wintry shades of blue.

"This is the history of the Water Tribe. The waterbenders were the first benders on Earth. They learned from La, the spirit of the moon, and they first used their powers to protect their settlements against an arctic storm."

On the fabric, Zuko could see little figures, clad in blue, erecting a barrier of ice and snow against a raging sea.

"The people of the Water Tribe draw their strength from the love for their families."

Walking a few steps farther, they came to a wide scene in the fresh green colours of the Earth Kingdom.

"This is the story of the lovers Oma and Shu, separated by the hatred between their villages, forced underground by their forbidden love. They learned bending from the creatures living under the earth, and when Shu died in the war between their villages, Oma created one of the most fascinating cities of the Earth-Kingdom: Omashu. Instead of destroying those who had caused her pain, she united their peoples and taught them earthbending."

The next tapestry was woven in the familiar reds and golds of the Fire-Nation.

"You already know the legend of Zu and La, including the part of which I told you yesterday."

Zuko nodded and stepped closer to the fabric, marvelling at the intricate, detailed scenes enfolding before his eyes. He saw the two dragons, a golden one flying towards the Fire-Nation islands coming from the sun, a smaller silver dragon descending from a full moon.  
One part of the tapestry showed the two dragons intertwined, and only when he looked more closely did he see that something seemed amiss.

"They're biting each other," he stated.

A tinge of red coloured his mother's cheeks.

"Well," she said after clearing her throat. "That's how dragons mate."

On an impulse, his hand wandered to the mark on his shoulder.

"Yes, Zuko," his mother said softly behind him. "That is a sign that a dragon has found his true mate. You are carrying one of a set of two identical marks, unique to you and your mate. And I think I know who the girl is."

Zuko suddenly realized with painful clarity why the subject had been so uncomfortable to his mother.

"But we haven't… well… uhm… never mind."

He hoped for both their sakes that it was impossible to die of embarrassment.

"You are bound to one another," his mother said quietly. "It is not merely a matter of joining physically, although the bond consists of multiple fibres and is at its strongest when it is complete."

Something occurred to Zuko as he mulled the information over. As far as he remembered from the few occasions where he had seen his father without a shirt, Ozai did not have such a mark.

"But father—"

His mother lifted her hand and shook her head.

"Let's not talk about your father," she said and ushered him toward another wall.

There they saw a light silky canvas, embroidered with the jaunty colours of early autumn.

"The air nomads always lived high up in the mountains," his mother began to explain. "In the days of old, they were hunters, and the boys and men hunted while the women foraged for roots, nuts and berries. A boy named Ling, twin-brother of Song, was hunting with his father, when he suddenly felt that his sister was in grave danger. But they were separated from the group of females by a steep ravine, with no chance to reach them swiftly.  
"Ling was a bit of a dreamer, he was often looking up at the sky where the lion-eagles drew their mighty circles and wishing he could fly like them. Therefore, when he felt the danger to his sister, he had a sudden idea. With a few sticks and pieces of his own clothes, he built a contraption – a glider just like Avatar Aang is still using – and summoned the spirits of the air to his aid. He crossed the ravine flying like a bird and met his sister, who had been separated from the group, just in time to see an avalanche rolling toward them. With his newly acquired bending powers, he drew a shield around the two of them, saving them from certain death."

Ursa fell silent, giving him time to look at the vivid pictures and to absorb the tale. Zuko turned back to the other tapestries, looked at them one after the other, and then he suddenly knew why it was so important to know all those legends.

"It's about love," he said. "About caring for one another. The spirits gave the powers of bending to mankind to help us protect those we love."

His mother stepped to him and put one hand lightly on his upper arm.

"This is what I hoped you would learn."

………

Katara floated in the huge bathtub, squinting at the morning sunlight brightly streaming through the windows, and counted the hours until sunset.

Additionally, she was angry at herself for a steadily growing list of things.

First of all, she had to remember that if she ever set someone a timeframe again, she would have to be more precise. Because, while calculating just how many hours she would have to spent in this city before she could go back, she arrived at the conundrum that she didn't quite know if yesterday counted as one of the three days or not.

She also had little success in trying to convince herself that it was only because she wanted to go back to her friends and her brother that she was so impatiently counting the remaining time. If she was quite honest with herself, she had to admit that her excitement was solely based on the prospect of spending time alone with Zuko again.

Only the two of them. No ogling cousins, no White Lotus, no Dark Warriors.

The most vexing thing was that, with this line of thinking, she effectively proved everything he had accused her of as right. She _did_ want to have him for herself.

She wanted him to whisper ridiculously romantic things into her ear; she wanted him to be jealous of everything that came too close to her. She wanted him to make her body ache for his touch and her blood sing in her veins. She wanted to have him close by, to connect to him spiritually, emotionally and physically whenever she craved it. She wanted him to make her feel as if she was the most beautiful, the most desirable woman he had ever seen.

She wanted him. Period.

In a time where the world was at war, when she was supposed to worry about the Avatar, the Day of the Black Sun, and other important things, it was a boy – a man, really – who was left, right, front and centre in her thoughts. And pretending they were just friends wasn't helping matters at all. If anything, it probably made it worse.

He had been right about that, too.

She gave the water an angry kick, which caused nothing but a slight ripple.

To top things off, she was deathly tired. Sleeping in that big bed was no fun at all without Zuko, so she had slept on the couch. Or tried to, because that had proved to be even less enjoyable. So she had gone back to the bed and tossed and turned until the sun came up.

Then she had eaten some of the things left over from last night and had decided to take a long bath, after which she wanted to try to catch some sleep. What else was a girl to do around here, after all?

_Katara?_

She shot upright in the tub at the sound of his voice in her head. He was right outside that door.

Water sloshed over the rim of the tub as she hastily clambered out of it, wrapping a towel around herself while she hurried to the door, barely avoiding slipping on the wet tiles.

She threw the door to the bedroom open and stepped slowly outside, suddenly embarrassed by her undignified haste.

Zuko spun around from where he had been kneeling next to his backpack, and then got up, the scabbard with his double-sword in his hand.

"Zuko."

Her throat refused to form any more words, as she saw his gaze hungrily roaming over her barely covered body. When his gaze moved up again, it caught at her neck.  
The mark on her neck came alive under his sultry gaze, sending tingling jolts of excitement over her skin.

She saw his grip tightening on his weapon.

"I came for my sword," he said huskily.

_Please stay._

He stepped closer to her until their bodies almost touched. His irises were only just a golden corona around his impossibly widened pupils.  
A scent of flowers came from him, and a faint note of dusty, ancient cloth.

Looking at him so closely, she noticed that the faint web of scars around his eye had turned an angry red.

With slight movement of her fingers, she bent a few drops of water from her wet hair and body, and brought it tentatively to his face. He flinched a little at the first touch of her water-gloved hand, but then held perfectly still as she traced the red lines. The colour faded under her healing touch until all that was left was… nothing.

Nothing but perfect, unblemished ivory skin, starkly contrasting with the light brown of her hand. Her breath caught in her throat as she let her hand sink to her side and stared up at him.

"Beautiful," she whispered.

She leaned against the wall at her back and lovingly traced every line of his beautiful, even features with her eyes, his straight black brows, now fully re-grown on both sides. The long inky lashes framing the golden eyes, which were so intently concentrated on her face. And his mouth! How could she ever have thought for a moment that she could look at his lips and not want to kiss them?

As if he had read her thoughts, he closed the remaining space between them, pressing his firm warm body tightly against hers. She would have gasped at the contact, had not at the same time his mouth slanted over hers, drinking the breath from her lips.

The heat of his body seeped into her even through the layers of his clothes, melting her worries and her misgivings, until nothing was left but open hunger. A hunger he must feel just like she did, because his hips ground into her in a way some ancient instinct in her recognized. She could feel his arousal, feel the stiff length trapped between their bodies as he moved against her with driving urgency, and without giving it a conscious thought, her body answered the movements, pressed against him in the same rhythm, making them moan into their frenzied kiss. His tongue thrust into her mouth in synch with the demanding pushes of his hips. Her blood rushed in burning waves to the drawing pulse inside herself, leaving her light headed. If she hadn't been so securely pressed against the wall behind her, she was sure she would not be able to hold herself upright.

_Zuko__, please._

He hesitated at her pleading, and drew back, the opposite of what she had wanted him to do. His intent gaze wandered down her face to her neck, where the mark was nearly burning her skin.  
Impossibly slowly, he bent his head over her shoulder – and then swiped over the mark with one languorous lick of his tongue.  
For a split moment, the unusual caress soothed the burning, but then she cried out as it spread in a violent torrent of molten heat through her whole body. She desperately clutched at his shoulders, her legs no longer supporting her weight.  
In an effort to steady her, Zuko brought his right hand to her waist, only to cause his sword to clank loudly against the wall.  
The cold metallic sound cut through the heated intimacy of their embrace like scissors through silk.

He froze, only his panting breath still caressing her over-sensitized skin.

_I am sorry, Katara. I have to go._

She shook her head, desperation knifing through her.

_No, Zuko. __Please don't._

With an abrupt movement, he drew away and turned, as if her closeness was suddenly too much.

Bereft of his body warming her and holding her upright, she slid through the floor in a pitiful heap, but he didn't even see her anymore, because he was gone.

_I'll be back tonight. W__ait here for me._

His words in her head were quiet and regretful.

_And in the meantime, if you want, Lee-Sa wants to go shopping with you. _

If she hadn't been so close to crying, she would have laughed.

_I did promise you a few new dresses, after all._

………

Zuko had never been more thankful for the ostrich-horse than he was when walking out of their hotel suite. His legs were shaking so badly, he feared he would fall flat on his face any second now. He was also thankful for his wide overtunic, that prevented both Lee-Sa and Li from noticing his raging hard-on.

Tonight, he promised himself, after all this was over, he would never again leave her like this.

He hopped into the saddle, winced a little as his nether regions made contact with the firm leather, and motioned for Li to follow him. Since it was apparently necessary for Li to be present at his joining the guards, another guard had been appointed to watch over the women.

Neither of the men involved, not even Zuko, seemed very happy about this particular development, albeit for different reasons.

At the Order's entrance to the Shrine, a trapdoor that led into an underground tunnel so the members of the Order could come and go unseen by the tourists, his mother was already waiting for him in the company of a tall guard Zuko hadn't seen before.

His deeply tanned skin, a few shades darker than the one he had just kissed, marked him as a member of the Water Tribe, one of the guards' few waterbenders.

"This is commander Toma," his mother introduced them. "He'll be in charge of your initiation."

Toma gave him a curt nod and turned to go, but before Zuko could follow him, his mother held him back and gently put a hand on his left cheek.

"Your scar," she whispered.

Zuko just smiled.

"Be careful, Zuko," his mother said, caressing him a bit. "Those are very powerful benders."

His smile grew wider and self-confident.

"So am I, mother."

Toma led him through a maze of tunnels, corridors and staircases, and eventually they arrived at some sort of courtyard, enclosed by twenty feet high whitewashed brick walls.

The sun, now high in the sky, beat mercilessly down on the plaster. The yard was apparently some sort of training ground, because about twenty shirtless men were sparring and practicing bending stances. The air was ripe with the smell of male sweat, and filled with deep throated shouts.

At a barked command from Toma, the men swiftly dispersed and assembled at the outer perimeter of the training grounds.

Toma then proceeded to call three names, Li being one of them, and the three men stepped forward, clad only in loose fitting pants, similar to those that were traditionally worn during an Agni-Kai.

"The first competition is a conventional fight," the commander announced. "The two combatants can choose their own weapons."

With a sharp metallic sound, Zuko drew his broadswords out of the scabbard, while divesting himself of his overtunic.

Li's weapon of choice was a two-handed great sword, a heavy and mighty weapon, typically used by the Palace guards.

Unfortunately for Li, the sword slowed him down so much that he never had the chance to use its superior weight and striking force to his advantage against Zuko's much lighter daos. Zuko had him outmanoeuvred in no time, barely breaking a sweat in the two minutes it took.

"You let me win," he hissed to Li while helping the man back to his feet.

"Arrogant ass," Li mumbled under his breath, still loud enough for Zuko to hear.

"The next competition is a bending battle. Prince Zuko has to demonstrate his abilities in a fight against an earthbender."

During their travels through the Earth-Kingdom, Zuko had had plenty of chances to study the fighting strategies of the earthbenders. Additionally, his uncle had told him countless stories about the siege of Ba-Sing-Se, which further helped him to understand that earth-benders didn't believe in evasive manoeuvres, and didn't move too much during a fight. Just like he had beaten Li, he won the match against the earthbender by using his superior agility, by moving around so quickly that the massive attacks of the bender only found empty air, while Zuko scored from an unexpected vantage point.

The fight was over in a reasonably short time.

But then Toma threw off his cloak and marched into the centre of the courtyard.

"In your third competition of this trial," Toma announced from where he stood, "Prince Zuko will fight against the best waterbender of the guard."

The men in the circle around them cheered loudly for their commander.

Toma stood proudly and confident, his dusky skin gleaming like polished bronze in the sun.

A rumbling sound drew his attentions to the sidelines, where huge earthenware jars were rolled into the yard on flat wooden carts.

Zuko swallowed.

Katara was the only waterbender against whom he had ever fought. Not only did he lack experience with fighting them, he just plain didn't want to.

"Now, firebender," Toma called to him, good-natured laughter in his voice. "You can't win this match by trying to outrun me."

Reluctantly, Zuko went into a bending stance just before a water-whip lashed into his direction. Instead of fighting it with fire, he ducked the attack, rolled away and sprang to his feet again.

"Afraid of getting wet?" Toma shouted, and the men around him roared with laughter.

Apparently, this ritual wasn't as solemn an affair as Zuko had thought.

Three ice-daggers flew his way, and Zuko could only move to the side in time, because he had recognized the bending move beforehand.

He shot a ball of white fire in Toma's direction, but he sidestepped it easily.

"Was that a ball of cotton wool you threw at me?" Toma asked, his blue eyes glittering with mirth at the laughter of his fellow soldiers.

Zuko ducked another water-whip, gritted his teeth against another stupid joke, tried to land a few shots, but soon realized that fighting like this led nowhere.

When Toma threw a whole barrage of icicles at him, Zuko melted them with a cloud of fire, ridiculously relieved that nothing happened but ice turning into steam.

"Well," Toma said, assuming another stance. "At last, His Royal Highness has decided to join the fight."

The men around them laughed again.

With a wide gesture, Toma summoned water from every vessel around them and sent it in a broad wave against Zuko. In the split moment he had to try to counter that attack, Zuko knew that he could either blaze his way through the wall of water, or…

He went into a bending stance he had only learned a few days ago.

The wave froze into a glittering wall of translucent, clear blue ice.

Silence fell abruptly around them.

The quietness was so absolute, one could hear the faint cracks of the ice in the warm sun.

Although Zuko knew that it would probably overtax what strength he had left, he melted the ice with a fireblast from his left hand, and bent it back into the earthenware jars with his right.  
Toma stood like a bronze statue, his arms hanging by his side, his blue eyes wide with wonder and no little awe.

"You've mastered your trial," he said eventually and bowed to him. "The White Lotus will expect you in the throne-room after the guards have made you one of them."

………

"A _wedding_ dress!?"

Katara thought she hadn't heard Lee-Sa right.

After picking herself up from the floor, she had reluctantly decided to take Lee-Sa's offer, mostly because she absolutely couldn't stand the solitude of the lonely hotel room, but this was going decidedly too far.

"Yes," Lee-Sa said with a happy smile. "My wedding to Li will be in about four weeks, and what with Lady Ursa always being too busy to go with me, I don't really have anyone—"

"Wait," Katara interrupted her. "You're getting married to Li? As in my former bodyguard Li?"

Lee-Sa nodded, her smile and expression exuding such genuine happiness that Katara felt ashamed for what she had actually feared was the reason for Lee-Sa's interest in wedding attire.

"But I thought—"

Lee-Sa rolled her eyes.

"Katara, I never had any designs on your boyfriend. He's my cousin, for Agni's sake! Besides, everyone can see that he only has eyes for you."

Katara felt a huge grin spreading over her face. All things considered, Lee-Sa wasn't all that irritating after all.

"But I thought that—"

Lee-Sa let out a long-suffering sigh.

"And no, the guards weren't sworn to celibacy. A fact which you will soon learn to appreciate."

Katara found that she appreciated the fact already, if it meant that Lee-Sa's affection were safely occupied – with someone else.

"So, a wedding dress," she said, to change the topic. "I guess there are a hundred shops around here selling wedding dresses."

Lee-Sa beamed.

"First, we get you all dressed up, then we get around to the really good part."

Although she would never have thought it possible, going shopping with Lee-Sa suddenly sounded like fun.

………

A few hours and about a thousand shops later, Katara had a pretty clear idea why Lady Ursa was always too busy to go shopping with her young cousin.

It was a nightmare. No, it was worse than a nightmare, because a nightmare had to end eventually, while Katara had abandoned hope that this torture would ever end.

Just when she thought that there could not possibly be another shop around the corner that sold shoes, or dresses, ribbons, shawls, fans, hair ornaments, or – to her eternal mortification – underwear, off Lee-Sa went, ordering the coachman to drive to yet another street where some fashionable shop had not yet been explored.

Katara was so exhausted by the time they stepped into another bridal shop to look for the perfect wedding dress that she considered sneaking behind one of the screens behind which the costumers changed, to take a little nap while Lee-Sa fawned over another hundred or so dresses.

She was almost all the way to the screen, when something blue caught her eyes in the sea of crème and beige and ivory.

To Lee-Sa's chagrin, the few dresses Katara had bought today were either sky blue or of the deep burgundy colour she had grown used to while wearing Fire-nation clothes.

But the fine silk she held between her fingers right now was a perfect deep blue, like the colour of her mother's eyes. And hers, naturally.

Delicate embroidery ornamented the bodice and the wide sleeves, done with impossibly thin silver thread. Whoever had done this wonderful piece of work had tried to imitate the look of frostwork on a windowpane, intricate, slightly curving patterns, fragile and beautiful.

"Looks like you found your perfect dress."

Katara looked up at Lee-Sa's smiling face.

"I don't need a wedding dress."

Lee-Sa shrugged.

"You never know."

A wild fluttering suddenly started in Katara's stomach, as if a thousand little birds had suddenly taken flight.

"I'm off to fight a war," she said, her voice wavering. "I can't take it with me. I have bought too much stuff as it is."

"Oh please, Katara," Lee-Sa said, nearly whining. "Just try it on. You can leave all the things you cannot carry here with me. I'm sure we'll meet again sooner than you think."

………

Zuko was glad that he was given a moment's respite to catch his breath, before the next – mysterious – part of his initiation took place.

Lee-Sa had been infuriatingly vague about this part of the ceremony, but she had repeatedly hinted at something excruciatingly painful.

At first he was sure she was just trying to pull his leg, but a certain flutter of anxiety had settled nonetheless in his stomach, and now he wished he was still as sure.  
He had been told to take a bath, which really wasn't more than a dunk in a tub filled with ice-cold water – a courtesy of Toma, for sure – and new clothes were laid out for him.

Not the complete uniform of the guards, only the trousers and knee-length boots, as well as a black leather belt, embossed with the symbol of the White Lotus.

After he had dressed himself, he found a slim velvet ribbon underneath the pile of clothes, and as he drew his fingertips over the soft surface, he felt the bumps of embroidery. With black thread, the ever-present symbol was embroidered on the black fabric.

"Nice," he said to himself.

He turned to a mirror on the wall and gathered the strands of his hair falling into his forehead and temples into a top-knot, the rest of his hair falling freely to his shoulders, as seemed to be the usual hairstyle among the guards.

Then he stepped outside, where Li was expecting him and wordlessly led him through some more corridors.

Zuko suspected, that the Shrine was like the tip of an iceberg in comparison to the huge, underground maze the Order's headquarter seemed to consist of. He wouldn't be surprised if it spanned the whole area of the gardens.

They arrived in a chamber, brightly lit with dozens of torches. Smoke bit into his eyes.

Toma stood on an elevated platform and motioned for Zuko to come forward.

Around them in a circle stood all the guards in their usual black, like an impenetrable wall of shadows.

The queasy feeling in the pit of Zuko's stomach grew more intense, but with a show of calm and confidence, he strode to the place where he was supposed to stand.

Toma started to speak, in a booming voice that reverberated through the cavernous hall.

"To prove your worth, your endurance and your bravery as one of the warriors of the White Lotus, you will unflinchingly receive the mark of the guards."

He stepped towards Zuko, holding a metal rod with a wooden handle. On its scorched black tip, the metal widened into a wrought iron pattern – a White Lotus.

A branding iron.

Zuko had to flex his muscles into cords of stiff iron to keep himself from bolting at the sight.

"Since you're a firebender," Toma droned on, "you have the honour of heating the iron yourself."

Zuko was glad that his hand did not shake as he lifted it and produced a flare of white, holding it against the iron.

The flowery symbol soon bloomed in a brightly glowing orange. Feeling as if every muscle in his body was quivering with fear, Zuko let his hand sink.

Toma stepped behind him and Zuko closed his eyes, bracing himself and praying to every deity he knew that he wouldn't embarrass himself and his mother.

At first, he didn't feel anything. The hiss of burning meat hit his ears almost as soon as he smelled the sickening stench of scorched flesh, all too familiar to him.

Only then did he notice the pain.

………

Katara had to admit that she loved the dress. And she also had to admit that she couldn't bear the thought of leaving it hanging in the shop for someone else to buy.

She had to have it.

It looked perfect on her, fitting as if made for her, accentuating – or so Lee-Sa gushed repeatedly – the colour of her eyes and her complexion. It hugged her body in all the right places and she felt like a princess wearing it.

How perfect it would be for marrying a prince.

With a shake of her head, she chased the ridiculous thought away, not daring to let even her thoughts wander in that direction.

"You have to buy it," Lee-Sa cried, for about the hundredth time.

Katara smiled at her reflection.

And then she froze as a stab of burning pain lanced through her left shoulder, forcing her to double over and claw at the hurting part of her. She cried with pain, and it was only because of Lee-Sa's steadying arm that she did not fall to the ground.

"Zuko," she gasped as tears streamed down her face. "Someone's hurting Zuko."

* * *

tbc 

Please let me know what you think.


	20. Oaths

**_A/N: _**As you might have noticed, chapters are coming a lot slower now, than they used to. That's not because I have lost interest in the story, but because of the approaching holidays. There's Christmas shopping to be done, cookies to bake, etc, and additionally things at work tend to go a bit crazy at the end of a year. But don't worry, I won't leave this unfinished.

**_A/N2: _**A big thank you to all my reviewers. That I still drag my tired behind in front of the computer to write every night is thanks to you guys.

That said: Enjoy!

* * *

**_Chapter 20: __Oaths_**

On more than one occasion, Zuko had envied those sorts of people who could faint at the tiniest bit of pain or danger. Never in his life had he fainted from pain. Not when his father had burned him, not during the ordeal at the North Pole, not even back in the Earth Kingdom, when he was half-mad with hunger.

Right now, with the red hot branding iron biting into his skin, he was glad he wasn't the fainting type. It would have been mortifying.

To his relief, the ordeal was over in a matter of seconds, though the wound throbbed and burned fiercely. He shook with the effort to stay calm, to keep himself from remembering the last time a burning wound had been inflicted on him.

Another warrior approached him with a bowl and a black sponge. One look at the black liquid contents of the bowl told him it wasn't water.

His jaw-muscles were still cramping with the strain of gritting his teeth against the agony, when another stinging pain shot through him from the wound, as the man pressed the sponge against it.

"With this mixture of ink and ash seeping into your mark," Toma spoke behind him, "it won't fade with time."

The stinging still continued, although the man with the bowl stepped away from him again.

Zuko took a deep breath, trying to breathe through the discomfort. On an impulse, he threw his head back and let out a breath he had been holding for some time. A great plume of fire clouded towards the ceiling.

Toma's eyes crinkled with mirth when Zuko looked back at him.

"I think you've just invigorated the guards' belief in the legend of the dragons."

Then his expression sobered and he waved his hand.

Two servants came forward, one with another bowl, one holding a black shirt and cloak.

"You did well, Prince Zuko," Toma said gravely. "You will now be prepared to swear your oath to the White Lotus."

………

"Katara, please, you have to believe me. He is fine."

Despite Lee-Sa's assurances, Katara didn't believe a word. After all, she was the one who had almost fainted at the pain inflicted on Zuko, and she would not believe for a moment that he was anything close to being _fine_.

With some difficulty, Katara peeled herself out of the gorgeous dress and threw on her own clothes, while Lee-Sa wrung her hands and tried to placate her.

"Katara, where Zuko is right now, he wouldn't want you to come barging in trying to save him. It would be embarrassing."

Katara looked up at her, her mind finally catching on to the fact that Lee-Sa seemed to know something.

"What is happening to him?" she asked in a low voice.

Lee-Sa blanched and shook her head.

"I can't tell," she said, sounding truly upset. "He wouldn't want me to."

Not wasting another second on trying to question her, Katara stormed out of the shop, toward their carriage. She would've run the whole way to the Shrine if necessary, but why waste the energy.

"Please, wait!" Lee-Sa cried behind her, holding her back by the sleeves of her dress.

Katara spun around, glaring at her.

"Let go," she snarled.

Lee-Sa stilled, her hands still gripping Katara's dress. Only her quivering lips betrayed that she seemed to be truly afraid.

"He wanted to join the guards," Lee-Sa said as if that was an explanation.

………

With the feel of smooth silk on his skin, his cloak billowing behind him while he strode toward the throne room, Zuko felt driven by an elation that nearly succeeded in making him grin.

He felt strong, and though the wound on his shoulder still throbbed annoyingly, despite the healing salve one of the servants had applied before bandaging it, he felt invincible.

But more than all that, he felt that he belonged. That he was part of a just cause, part of something bigger than himself, bigger than individual ambition or nationalistic megalomania.

This was who he was meant to be, what he was meant – born – to do.

Toma and Li accompanied him to his mother, but Zuko knew the way on his own, and strode half a step in front of them, eager to begin the final part of the ceremony.

When they approached the white doors to the throne-room, the guards threw it wide open, bowing to their superior officers.

As if their movements had been meticulously choreographed, the three men marched up to the throne, and dropped to one knee in front of Ursa, bowing their heads.

"Revered White Lotus," Toma said. "This man is Zuko of the Fire-Nation, son of Ozai and Ursa. He has mastered his trials and we deem him ready to swear the Holy Oath."

With his head bowed, Zuko couldn't see what his mother was doing, but he sensed the two men at his side getting up, standing with their feet apart and their hands on their backs.

"Zuko," his mother addressed him and he looked up.

She smiled at him.

"As a guard," she said, "you will have no title but the rank that the guards give you. Do you accept that?"

"I do."

She nodded, and from one of the wide sleeves of her black dress, drew a small dagger, presenting it to him with the naked blade pointed at him.

Zuko took it from her and held the blade firmly between the palms of his hands, the gem-studded handle the only part visible.

He took a steadying breath, hoping he would recall all of the hastily memorized words of the oath. Looking directly into his mother's eyes, he began in a calm, quiet voice.

"I swear by the honour of my ancestors, by the mighty Agni and by the holy iron that I hold, to give my fealty and pledge my loyalty to the Order of the White Lotus and the Revered Avatar.  
"I swear to protect the balance of the four elements with the strength of my arms, the sharpness of my mind, and the love in my soul. I swear to keep the Order's holy secrets and protect them against those who mean it harm.  
"If ever my hand should be raised against the Order or the Avatar in rebellion or betrayal, I ask that this holy iron shall pierce my heart."

He then raised the dagger to his lips and kissed the blade, before handing it back to his mother.

Tears glittered in her eyes as she took it, and her voice quivered a little when she began to speak.

"I accept your pledge of loyalty, Zuko of the Fire-Nation. Go and serve the Order and the cause of the Avatar."

………

"_Branding?!_"

Katara felt the blood leave her face, even as she still tried to convince herself she had not heard Lee-Sa right.

"They're scarring him on purpose?"

A note of annoyance crept into Lee-Sa's anxious expression.

"It's a mark of honour—"

"Honour!" Katara bellowed, sending the people around them scurrying to the other side of the street. "I spent the better part of the last two weeks healing a scar he had received four years ago, and now you're telling me he's getting another one in the name of honour?"

Lee-Sa opened her mouth, but Katara cut her off again.

"Have you any idea how traumatized he is from what happened to him back then? How much it still hurts him? How can you…"

She trailed off as she saw the look of utter incomprehension on Lee-Sa's face.

Of course she didn't know. No one really did. No one had ever been privy to his feelings, his anxieties, and his pain. No one but her.

And the wish to heal him, to comfort him and to take away his pain clamped like a vice around her heart and lungs, barely letting her breathe.

Her shoulders slumped and she closed her eyes for a moment, trying to gather what was left of her energy, now that her anger had evaporated.

"I have to know that he is all right," she said quietly. "I need to know."

"He is all right, Katara," Lee-Sa replied softly, comfortingly stroking her arms. "He is one of the guards now, they won't let anything serious happen to him."

Slowly Katara yielded to Lee-Sa's softly convincing tone.

"Why don't you get into the carriage while I'll pay for the dresses I bought?" Lee-Sa suggested with a smile. "Then we'll go back to your room, where you can rest for a while and then get ready for when he comes back at sunset."

Katara nodded, suddenly thinking that resting sounded nice.

………

After they had left the throne room, both Li and Toma had slapped Zuko heartily on the back, on the right side, fortunately, and announced that now the less formal part of the initiation was about to start.

The less formal part turned out to involve lots of sake and other assorted spirits, drunk to the honour of Zuko, the Order, the White Lotus, and anything else the men could think of at short notice.

Zuko only sipped at his drink, not wanting to be too inebriated for what he had planned for the upcoming evening.

His stomach somersaulted at the thought of what he was about to do, leaving him a little sick.

Toma came over to Zuko's table, slamming another pair of sake glasses onto the surface, the clear liquid spilling over the rim.

"Your regular shift begins tomorrow at sunrise, Zuko," he announced in his booming voice that never failed to get him the attention of everyone around him. "So even though you're allowed to go back to your sweetheart, it wouldn't do to overtax yourself tonight."

He wriggled his eyebrows meaningfully, while ribald laughter broke out around them.

Instead of being angry at the outrageously personal remark, Zuko felt another flare of friendly warmth towards those men who welcomed him so unreservedly into their midst.

"Well, commander," he said with fake seriousness. "I don't know about you, but I'm confident that I can serve my sweetheart _and_ the Order, and not leave any of them unsatisfied."

For a beat, everyone around him was silent; then they roared with laughter, Toma being one of the loudest.

He grabbed one of the glasses and lifted it.

"Hear, hear!"

"Hear, hear!" thundered the simultaneous shout from a multitude of male throats.

Toma emptied his glass in one gulp, as did a lot of the other men.

Just to prove he could hold his liquor just as well as they, Zuko lifted his glass and was about to pour it down his throat, when a hush fell over the room.

Walking through the door, accompanied only by two female servants, was his mother.

"I am sorry to disturb your festivities," she said, sounding not the least bit sorry at all, "but I need to speak to Zuko."

Zuko stood, abandoning his glass, half relieved he did not have to empty it after all. He would have been rip-roaringly drunk in no time.

"That woman's got some nerve," Toma muttered behind him, but stood and bowed to Ursa as did all the other guards.

Zuko followed her to her private chambers, where the servants bowed and left them.

To his surprise, she stepped closer, sniffed at him and frowned.

"You reek of spirits."

He stood a bit straighter, scowling down at her.

"We were celebrating my joining the guards, as is customary."  
His mother smiled sourly.

"You might be a guard, and you might look like a grown man, but you're still seventeen and I'm still your mother, so no more drinking for you, young man."  
This was said with such a cutting tone of maternal authority, Zuko's hackles rose. But then he saw her mouth slightly twitching at one corner and swallowed the words of angry defiance that were already on his tongue.

"I don't know if your uncle told you about the dangers of alcohol to a firebender," his mother continued. "Waterbenders can consume staggering amounts of alcohol without becoming the slightest bit tipsy. Firebenders, however, react to alcohol immediately and with the most dramatic results." She sighed. "I remembered too late to warn you, so I had to intervene that way. Besides, we really need to talk."

She gestured for him to sit, and she took a place right across from him.

"I assume Lady Katara wants to go back to the Avatar and her brother, is that right?"

"Yes, she does."

"And you had planned to go with her? Back to your uncle?"

Zuko nodded slowly, just as a disturbing thought occurred to him. What if his duty would keep him here? He was supposed to follow orders now, he could not just go where he pleased anymore.

"I think I can serve the Order best when I go back with her. I will be able to protect the Avatar and his teachers, as well as advising them on the best strategy to employ when attacking the Fire-Nation capital during the day of the Black Sun."

His mother gave a short nod.

"I was planning on joining forces with whichever armies the Earth-King sent against the Fire-Nation on that day. But, after Ba-Sing-Se, I'm afraid we're up against the Firelord on our own."

"Not quite," Zuko said. "Katara told me that her brother and father had developed detailed plans for an invasion, involving people they met during their travels. She doesn't know any specifics, but I think I should discuss them with Sokka once we've met with them again."

Ursa nodded thoughtfully.

"How much does your sister know about the day of the Black Sun?"

A cold shiver ran down Zuko's spine.

"I don't know, but I'm afraid we have to assume she knows enough. I've yet to see someone taking Azula by surprise."

His mother stood, placing a hand lightly on his shoulder.

"I have to think about this and talk it over with the commanding officers of the guard."

Zuko stood, too, bowing to her.

"Understood. I will await my orders."

She smiled up at him.

"I am proud of you, my son. Not just for what you accomplished today, but for the man you raised yourself to be."

Zuko swallowed the lump in his throat, but when he said "Thank you, mother," it still came out only as a hoarse whisper.

Ursa beamed at him and took a step back.

"Now go to her," she said softly. "You have a day off duty tomorrow. I'll summon you as soon as I have orders to give."

………

To Katara's surprise, Lee-Sa's suggestion to take a nap had been a good one. As soon as her head hit the pillows of the huge bed, she had fallen into a deep, dreamless sleep.

As she woke up, she groggily blinked into the light of the sun that hung low in the sky and sent its orange light streaming into the bedroom.  
She sat up, stretched her arms above her and yawned heartily.

Reminded that Zuko would soon be here, she hopped out of bed and made a beeline for the bathroom. To save time, she didn't take another bath, but only bent cool water around herself while scrubbing herself clean of the dust and grime of wandering through the city for hours on end.

Feeling wonderfully clean and refreshed, she stepped out of the tub, padding over to the huge bathroom mirror. A wide glass shelf beneath it was filled with a plethora of little flasks and flacons, scented oils, creams and perfumes, that Lee-Sa had insisted a woman could not exist without. Some servant must have put them there while Katara was asleep.  
She experimentally sniffed at a few of them and in the end decided on a creamy lotion that had a clean, fresh smell to it, with only a hint of light flowery scent.

After she had rubbed herself from head to toe with it, her skin felt like a baby's to her touch. Then she brushed her hair until it gleamed and rearranged her hair loops until they dangled perfectly around her face.

Katara wasn't at all surprised to find that all the day's purchases had been straightened and hung up on a rack in the dressing room next to the bathroom. Only the package with her new underwear stood unopened on a shelf.

Trying not to think too closely about whether or not Zuko would get to see any of it, she fished something in plain white out of the box and proceeded to the rack with the dresses she had bought today.

Her searching hands came to rest on a pale blue silk, embroidered with beautiful white flowers.

She gasped as she recognized the flowers as lotus blossoms, and it was only then that her still slightly sleep-fogged brain reminded her of what else had happened today.

Her shoulder started to hurt with a dull pain, and something fluttered insistently in her stomach.

Zuko would come to her tonight as a Dark Warrior, as a member of the White Lotus.

And then her stomach coiled even more tightly as the true meaning of her musings sank in.

Zuko would come to her tonight. In just a few minutes, probably.

Her hands shook when she reached for the pale blue dress again, wryly hoping Zuko would appreciate the irony.

As she stepped out of the dressing room, she saw that a fruit basket had been sent to the room. She picked at a few grapes but found that her stomach was altogether too queasy to tolerate solid food, so she started pacing, every so often looking out of the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of a dark shadow moving toward the house.

What she finally saw was the opposite.

An ostrich-horse came trotting along the path, completely covered in blindingly white armour, contrasting sharply with the black rider on its back.

Without thinking, Katara ran to the door, throwing it wide open just in time to see the rider gracefully dismount from the ostrich-horse, giving it a pat on the little part of its neck that was without cover.

When he turned to her, Katara had to use all her willpower to remain standing.

It shouldn't have come as a surprise that Zuko would look handsome in the guards' black uniform. That the billowing cloak would accentuate his broad shoulders and tall form. That the tight pants would cling to his powerful thighs like a second skin, showing off every muscle. It also should not have made for such a devastating effect that his ivory skin clashed so beautifully with his dark attire, the ink-black hair framing his chiselled face as if an artist had taken great pains to create the perfect picture of male beauty.

But there was something else to him that hadn't been there before, something so powerfully alluring that it was all she could do not to throw herself at him and beg him to never leave her again.

A sense of inner peace, a self-assured calm, as if he had found some point of balance inside himself that kept him centred.

He finally knew where he belonged and what he wanted. And she had no doubt he was coming here to take it.

He smiled bashfully when he came closer, nodding a little toward his mount.

"I couldn't find a white ostrich-horse, so I had to paint this one's armour. I hope it will suffice."

What with Katara's brain having completely melted at his smile, she had no idea what he was getting at.

"Additionally, I'm afraid that as far as the guards are concerned I am not even a prince anymore."

She knew she was staring, and she knew she was probably looking excessively dumb right now, but she just couldn't help it. Right now, it was too much to try to decipher the meaning of his words.

He walked up the few steps to the porch, and finally came to a stop right in front of her, the scent of starch, soap, and wood-smoke adding to the barrage of impressions that overwhelmed her senses.

"Good evening, love," he said.

While her heart was still in her throat, he lowered his head and breathed a chaste kiss on her lips.

If talking would have been hard before, it was impossible now.

"You look beautiful," he said and slightly touched one of the blossoms on her dress, one that was perilously close to the tips of her breasts. "I like that dress."

The tips of her breasts hardened at the innocuous, fleeting caress and pressed rather visibly against the thin silk.

Zuko's gaze flickered shortly to the rising points, and when he looked back at her, he smiled in a way that told her he knew all her secrets.

She didn't care.

"Shall we go inside?" he asked.

She swallowed painfully against the sudden dryness in her throat and nodded. Realizing that he would wait for her to lead the way, she reluctantly wrenched her eyes from him and walked back into the living-room. While she walked, she could feel his gaze on her backside, and the knowledge prompted her to sway her hips just a bit more.

The provocative action, slight as it was, gave her some measure of feeling in control again, of feeling not quite so at the mercy of her own attraction to the man walking behind her.

In the living-room, she whirled around to him, a wide smile on her face, but as she saw him standing in the doorway, she was again struck by the same sense of awe, by the same breathless yearning she had just battled down a bit.

"I understand that Lee-Sa had told you about what happened today."

Katara nodded. She would've asked him if he was all right, but it was so obvious that he was, she spared herself the effort.

Zuko shifted from one foot to the other, then drew his hand over the left side of his face. At last, he walked toward her in two long strides and took her hand.

"There's something I need to tell you," he said. His hand, usually warm to the point of being too warm, was a bit clammy to the touch. "Can you please sit down on the couch?"

His cold hands and nervous behaviour turned her fluttering nervousness into icy panic. With stiff steps, she went to the couch and sat down, her spine straight and her mouth clamped into a tight, unsmiling line.

A variety of scenarios flitted through her head, each more ghastly than the next. He would send her back to Aang by herself because he wanted to stay with his mother. He had found someone else. He thought it was a brilliant idea just to stay friends.

Instead of sitting down next to her, he went down on his knees in front of her, on one knee to be exact, her hands held a bit too tightly in his much larger ones.

Even while kneeling, his eyes were level with hers and stared at her with fiery intensity.

"I swore an oath today," he began, a barely noticeable tremble in his voice. "I swore to protect, to be faithful, and to love those to whom I had sworn that oath."

Here it comes, she thought dejectedly. He means to tell me he cannot come back with me because of his new obligations.

"I am prepared to swear another such oath. To protect, to be faithful, and to love. To have and to hold, until death doth us part."

The swirling thoughts left her brain in a rush, leaving only black emptiness.

"Katara of the Southern Water Tribe, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?"

And through the emptiness, through the sudden surprised stillness that widened her eyes and let her chin drop so she was probably sitting there with an open mouth, an absurd, disconnected thought pushed to the forefront.

_I wish I had bought that dress._

………

Zuko apparently hadn't heard that thought and still looked at her expectantly, his hands squeezing the blood out of her fingers.

"I… I don't know," she stuttered.

His brows drew together, the tentative, encouraging smile on his lips vanished.

She tried to free her hands from his vise grip, and after some determined tugging he released them, but leaned closer, his face mere inches from hers.

"It's simple question, Katara."

"But what about your people?" she asked the first question that came to mind. "Will they accept their Firelord marrying a peasant of the Southern Water Tribe?"

"I don't care what my people think," he said.

She scowled at his arrogance.

"You'll be their leader; you should care what they think."

Annoyance flickered in his gaze at her so intentionally misinterpreting his words.

"Yes, I will be their leader, their Firelord, which means I should be allowed to make such a personal decision as to choose my own wife. Once the war is over, they will learn that the separation of our peoples, the separation of the elements, was as artificial as it was wrong, that it weakened us instead of making us stronger. I will be the first to show them that all people, all elements, can exist in peace and balance." His voice gentled at the last words and after a few moments' pause he spoke again. "That there can be trust and love, where before had been hatred and fear."

"I… need to think," she said, sidling away from him. "I can't think when you're hovering over me like some… big black bird."

He stood abruptly and retreated to the door, leaving her all the space she needed. The sudden feeling of emptiness and longing seemed a profound sign to her as to what her decision should be.

Not that there was any question about her answer.

And not because he was the most gorgeous male she had ever laid eyes on. Not because her bending powers, her very life, were so mysteriously intertwined with his. She would say yes because she loved him beyond reason, beyond anything she could ever have dreamed existed.

But as much as she wished they were, they weren't the only people in this world, not the only ones affected by such a decision.

Then again, maybe Zuko was right. Maybe it truly didn't matter what everyone else might think, as long as they knew it was what they wanted.

She looked at him, saw him leaning against the doorway trying to look indifferent.

A deep scowl furrowed his brow, and a tiny muscle in his jaw twitched in regular intervals.

When their gazes met, a very tiny movement that went through his whole body prompted her eyes to widen with a nearly unbelievable realization.

He was afraid. He wasn't angry, or impatient. That was just a front for a deep-seated fear. The fear of rejection.

A slow smile spread over her face, and Zuko's posture relaxed just the tiniest fraction. Again he swiped his hand over the left side of his face, as if he needed to assure himself that everything was all right with it.

Purposely slowly, she let her gaze roam over him, drinking in the riveting sight of a well-built man clad in a fetching black uniform, standing there waiting anxiously for her to answer his question.

"Black suits you," she drawled, winking at him. "I'm sure you turned quite a lot of heads on your ride over here."

Slowly, as if he wasn't sure at first how to take her words, a playful smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"A few," he said nonchalantly.

"Surely the popularity of the Dark Warriors will reach new heights after today."

His smile was now a broad grin that he tried to hide while turning his attention toward his fingernails which he inspected with great care.

"That's right," he said in a bored tone. "If I were you, I'd decide quickly. I might not be available for long."

She bit back a laugh and sauntered over to him, swaying her hips as she went. He tried to pretend he didn't notice, but failed spectacularly at the task.

"Well," she said when she reached him, drawing her fingertips along the lapels of his cloak. "You can't expect me to decide such an important matter without having sampled your abilities as a husband."

He chuckled and flicked a fingertip over the still engorged tip of her left breast. She couldn't bite back the gasp that broke from her throat at the pang of sharp pleasure shooting from her breast right to the place between her legs.

Leaning in and lowering his head, he brought his mouth to her ear, his breath hot on her skin.

"I believe you've sampled my abilities enough to know what's in store for you."

A fine tremor ran through her, and for a second her fingers involuntarily clenched around the fabric of his cloak. She would not last long playing this sort of game, she needed him too much.

"I think I need to refresh my memory," she whispered.

Her hands found their way under his cloak, greedily roaming over the fine silk of his shirt, her fingertips tingling at the feeling of the warm, firm muscles beneath.

A low chuckle vibrated against her fingertips.

"I am not that sort of man, love," he whispered, "I don't go to bed with a woman without her promising me marriage."

Despite her body shaking with need, she laughed at the absurd statement. Her hands rested flat against the wide expanse of his chest, and under them, she could feel the mighty thundering of his heart.

His heartbeat echoed through her body, until it seemed to be in synch with her own, in synch with the demanding pulse throbbing between her legs.

She let her hands wander lower, over the rippling muscles of his belly, past his belt…

But then a strong, decisive hand stopped her progress, and his gaze drilled into hers as she looked questioningly up at him.

"Say it, Katara."

The burning fire behind the golden irises stunned her into speechlessness for a moment, and she could do nothing but stare at him.

"Say 'Yes, Zuko, I will marry you.'"

Her momentary stupor vanished at the odd command.

"You can't just order me to say it," she said, in a tone that should have been indignant but came out breathless and trembling.

His mouth swooped down to hers, claiming her lips in a demanding, heart-stopping kiss that forced her to hold tightly onto his cloak once again, to keep herself from tumbling to the floor.

"Please," he whispered hotly against her lips. "Please, Katara, say it."

The need, the unashamed pleading in those few whispered words cut through her heart with a sharp sense of guilt at having withheld from him what she should have said the moment he asked the question.

She drew back a little, and looked at him with grave seriousness.

"I'd be honoured, Prince Zuko of the Fire-Nation, to become your wife."

* * *

tbc 

I hope you liked it. If you did, let me know. If you didn't, tell me why.


	21. Pillow Talk

**_A/N: _**A big heartfelt thank you to all my wonderful reviewers, this chapter is for you. (A bit of a Christmas present, I guess, because there will be no new chapters until after Christmas.) I hope you enjoy.

**_A/N2:_** The bed makes another appearance which means... Content warning! **_

* * *

_**

**_Chapter 21: Pillow Talk_**

To Zuko, things had never come easily. He always had to fight for everything he wanted to achieve, everything he wanted to have. It came to the point where he thought that nothing good would ever just happen to him, would ever be given to him just because he had asked for it.

Therefore, asking the woman who owned not only his heart and soul, but his whole self, blood, flesh and bone, to consent to be his forever was the most terrifying thing he ever had to do. Because he could do nothing to force a positive answer if she had none to give, nothing he could do would make her want to be his wife. There was no plan B.

He had tried, of course, as it was in his nature to do. He had tried to bring to life her childhood fantasy of a prince on a white mount riding up to her and asking for her hand on bended knee, prepared to take her away to adventure and greatness.

Her overwhelmed reaction to his mere presence he had taken as a good sign. The sensual reaction of her body to his slightest touch, the midnight-blue depths of her eyes that beckoned him to carnal oblivion just as the insinuating sway of her hips had. The wish to just give in to temptation, to go on as they had before, had been nearly irresistible.

But there was something else he felt for her, something other than lust, and even than the love that demanded his proposal. Something that he had never felt for a girl, nor had he ever expected to feel it.

Respect.

He not only respected her right to choose, to determine her own path in life, her own destiny. He also respected the laws of her culture, no longer ridiculing them as primitive or backward. For this reason alone, he needed to tell her he was prepared to make the commitment her people would demand from him before he took her innocence.

Of course, such noble motives weren't his only ones.

The dragon in him had claimed his mate already by marking her with an obscure sign that no one would recognize. The man needed to stake his claim in an irrefutable, indisputable way.

Their bond, as strong as it was already, had to be made public, had to be made official by the laws of men, gods and spirits, so that no one – not even the most revered man on earth – could break it.

He had half-expected her reluctance, even her arguments against such a match. He had not come unprepared but had found just the right words to show where he stood on that matter. But as she told him she needed to think, his loss of control over the outcome of the situation had frozen the blood in his veins. Nothing he had achieved today, not the pride of his mother, the admiration and friendship of the guards, would compensate for her rejection if that was what she contemplated.

Therefore, his heart had soared when she had come to him, seducing him in that excitingly sweet manner only a woman as pure as her could make as arousing as it was to him. The knowledge that he was the first and only man to see this side of her would never fail to affect him as profoundly as it did now.

Still, he needed her consent, and he found not a bit of his usual pride and arrogance standing in the way of begging her to say what he needed to hear.

As in an old fairy tale he vaguely remembered, her words, spoken so earnestly and with such gravity, in contrast to her playful seductiveness, broke the last iron band of fear and shame around his heart.

A wide grin spread over his face until the corners of his mouth hurt at the rare activity.

"You've just made me the happiest man on earth," he said before he crushed her to him, eagerly seeking her mouth with his for a deep, passionate kiss.

"I've planned on making you even happier," she whispered between gasping breaths, as he broke their kiss to gulp some much needed breaths of air.

The mischievous glint in her eyes had him dumbfounded for a second, time enough for her to extricate herself from his arms and to lead the way toward the bedroom.

Outside, night had fallen and only a streak of deep blue told of the waning day merging into the black of the night.

The bedroom was softly lit by scented candles burning on the nightstands on either side of the bed. Their flickering flames added a sweet, flowery scent to the sensual atmosphere of the room.

The comforter of the bed was thrown back invitingly, the pillows fluffed up so that they looked like soft clouds.

There was no doubt that Katara must have had plans of her own for tonight.

Stepping towards him, Katara loosened the fastenings of his cloak and let it fall to the floor with a soft rustle. For a second afterwards, nothing but their agitated breaths could be heard, quickened with anticipation, before her hands resumed their impatient work again, trying to free his shirt from where it was tucked into his pants.

He used her distraction to pull her to him again, thrusting his tongue into the welcoming, sweet depths of her mouth.

She moaned into the kiss, causing his already stiff erection to jerk with painful impatience.

Her nimble hands had meanwhile worked their way under his shirt and roamed his belly, greedily kneading the rippling muscles, scraping her fingernails over his already oversensitive skin. When her eager fingers reached his nipple, flicking it a little, he broke their kiss with a groan.

Stilling her wandering hands, he tried to give her a wobbly smile.

_Slow down. We have the whole night._

A dark shadow crossed her face, and she pulled back a little.

"And then?" she asked tonelessly.

His lust-addled brain took a moment to process her question. Did she not know that he would never leave her, that they would never be separated again?

He breathed a gentle kiss onto her lips, running his hand soothingly up and down her spine.

"And then the rest of our lives."

Katara's features softened, and then she pressed her face against his chest, her arms wrapped tightly around his waist.

"That's good," she mumbled into his shirt. "Very good."

Then – without warning – she loosened the grip on his waist and threw her arms around his shoulders. One of her hands closed inadvertently over the wound of the branding mark.

With no time to brace himself for the pain, he shouted loudly, while Katara winced and scrambled at least two steps back, clutching her own shoulder.

"I'm sorry," she said, tears glittering in her eyes. "I forgot."

A terrifying thought occurred to him as he saw her biting her lip in obvious pain.

"Did you feel it?" he asked quietly. "The branding?"

She gave him a look that spoke plainly enough.

"I am sorry," he said, taking a little step closer to her. "I didn't know."

Katara straightened, and made a gesture toward his shirt.

"Take that off, I'll heal you first."

He couldn't quite suppress a smile at the implied meaning of 'first', and obediently divested himself of his shirt.

She gestured for him to sit down on the bed and he did so, turning his back to her. The guards' medic had put a foully smelling paste on the wound and covered it with a bit of linen, and he gritted his teeth when Katara gently peeled the fabric off him.

A low hiss of breath told him when she finally saw the wound.

"Whose ass do I have to kick for this?" she said with enough fury in her voice to make him believe she would do it.

"The commander of the Dark Warriors," he tattled, smiling to himself. "The largest waterbender I've ever seen, a guy named Toma."

He pictured Katara unleashing her anger on the unsuspecting guard, besting him with what he firmly believed were bending powers far superior to Toma's.

"He'll be surprised, though, if you attack him for that, because I let him do it."

Katara made an unidentifiable noise behind his back, something that vaguely sounded like _'Men!'_

With a flowing motion, she commanded some water from one of the vases in the room toward her.

Alarmed, he stiffened a little.

"You're going to use that for the wound?"

He instantly regretted the question, when he felt her going still behind him, and then taking a deep breath.

To his relief, her voice was calm and sweet when she spoke. So sweet, his back teeth started to hurt.

"You're worried that water might be bad for your skin, Zuko?"

Something in her tone warned him not to answer in the affirmative.

"Well—"

She didn't let him continue.

"But you weren't overly worried about that nauseating green-brown gunk they put on your skin?"

"Uhm—"

"And you weren't worried over – well, let me think – the _branding iron_?"

Having studied military strategies from an early age, Zuko knew when to beat a tactical retreat. He rather suspected such knowledge might come in handy in a marriage. At least in his marriage.

The last thought brought a bright grin on his face, although he was glad Katara didn't see it. She might have misinterpreted it.

"I wasn't thinking," he admitted, trying his best to sound contrite.

"Damn right you weren't," she grumbled and put the water back into the vase.

After having quickly vanished into the bathroom, she came back with a bowl filled with sparkling fresh water and a few towels.

He had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning even more.

"Just for the record," he said while Katara was cleaning the gunk from his wound, "I was worried about the green stuff, and the black stuff. And when I saw the branding iron, I nearly… well, I nearly did some very undignified things."

She giggled, but then something seemed to have caught her attention.

"What black stuff?"

"Ink and ash, to permanently colour the mark."

Katara threw one of the towels to the floor, that was complete smeared with the green paste.

"Doesn't matter, it'll all go."

Again, a sense of alarm swept through him, but this time he made the effort of thinking before he spoke.

"Uhm, Katara, the wound is supposed to become a permanent mark, I'd rather you didn't heal it. There's supposed to be a scar."

Katara exhaled forcibly.

"Tough luck, Zuko," she said curtly. "You want me to be your wife, you better get used to the thought that I won't let you run around with scars on your body, now that I know how to heal them."

He sighed dejectedly, knowing there was no arguing with her about that. Maybe if it had meant more to him, he would have, but he felt that his loyalty to the Order did not hinge on that scar, neither did his love for his mother, or his respect for the ideals that he had been taught during the last two days. Besides, his former experiences with scars were anything but pleasant; he knew they itched and pinched almost constantly.

Meanwhile, the soothing coolness of Katara's healing touch took the pain away bit by bit, until nothing was left.

He sighed again, this time with relief.

Katara was motionless behind him for a moment, and then she ran a gentle hand over his shoulder.

He felt an even glide, not hindered by the bumps and ridges of a branding scar.

"Is it gone?" he asked.

Wordlessly, she tugged at his arm and pushed him in front of a mirror. Then she turned him around and he craned his head to see the reflection of his back.

He gasped in wonder as he saw his left shoulder.

At the place where the wound had been, a perfect symbol of the White Lotus decorated his shoulder. Delicate as if a skilled artist had painted it with a fine brush, it was the exact light-brown colour of Katara's skin.

"It's beautiful," he said, lightly touching it with his fingertips.

Nothing but smooth skin greeted his fingers, unmarred and unhurt.

"It just appeared when I healed the wound," Katara said quietly, touching his chest and diverting his attention back to her at once. "And, yes, it's beautiful. This way it suits you much better."

He barely took notice of the veiled compliment in her words, because he was far too mesmerized by the look in her eyes.

Unhidden, love and desire blazed from the dark-blue depths, pulling him into an inescapable undertow of swirling emotions and unsatisfied needs.

Resuming where they had left off, he drew her to him, kissing her with a fierce urgency that she met with complete abandon.

They stumbled the few steps back to the bed, tumbling onto the soft mattress as Katara's legs hit the edge of the bed. Her fingers tunnelled through his hair, her nails softly scraping along his scalp, eliciting sparks of pleasure that shot light miniature bolts of lightning toward his groin. His hair fell in unruly strands around his face when Katara found the velvet ribbon of his topknot and loosened it.

Unable to help himself, he ground his hips against her, pressing her firmly into the mattress. If this went on in the same vein, it wouldn't last long for him, he had missed her far too much during the last two days.

With his right hand, he held her head to him, constantly deepening the kiss, angling her this way and that so he could explore every last crevice, every last hidden corner of her sweet mouth. His left was busy cupping her right breast through the sinfully thin material of her dress. One nipple poked hard as a pebble against his hand, and he greedily drank the excited moans from her lips when he flicked his thumb firmly over it.

_The sash_, a breathless thought echoed in his otherwise empty brain. Her voice.

He stilled for a second.

_The dress opens at the front. You only need to untie the sash. _

He scooted a little to the side, never breaking the contact between their mouths, and his fumbling, trembling fingers finally found the elusive sash, and even the bow with which it was tied. With a swift move, he untied it and thoughtlessly slipped his fingers under the whispering silk.

He encountered bare skin, soft and warm.

Every muscle in his body, every part of him that wasn't already hard with arousal grew rigid at the discovery. Slowly, as if he feared he would break, he drew back from her until he sat back on his haunches, trying his best to ignore the insistent throbbing of his groin.

Two days ago, he had seen her completely naked for the first time. An experience that in his memory was fogged with the red haze of violent arousal, not much better than it was now. Fortunately, this meant that for some time to come he could discover her body every time as if it was the first. Every time, he would feel the beat of his heart in every cell of his body, as if only the contact, the sight of her perfect caramel-coloured skin brought his body to life.

Taking a deep breath, he carefully parted her dress, until her upper body was completely exposed to him.

Their gazes locked and he saw an unspoken question in her eyes, a question she did not even think.

"You're so beautiful," he said, his voice rough.

His admiring gaze ventured from her face to her elegant neck, watching mesmerized as she swallowed laboriously. Further his gaze travelled, lovingly gazing at the twin mounds of her breasts, tipped with dusky, puckered flesh that rose enticingly toward him, as if pleading for his caress. He was about to fulfil the apparent request, when his gaze caught on the angry red mark at the side of her neck, that seemed to glow and pulse, beckoning him.

He crawled up over her prone body, his chest brushing against the tips of her breasts. The deliberate contact made her moan and arch up against him.

His head started to pound with a primitive loud chanting, which became more pronounced the closer his mouth came to the mark. Fighting the animal instinct that pushed him to sink his teeth into the pulsing circle, he only dragged his lips softly over the heated skin.

He heard Katara's shuddering moan at the contact as if from far away, being far too enraptured by the synchronous heartbeat that hotly pulsed in the mark on his neck. As if the marks communicated in some strange way, his awareness of her body heightened to the point where he could not discern where his desire ended and hers began. The sensations, felt by both of them, flowed from one to the other, echoing, and amplifying.

But the heightened awareness of her brought another thought, an utterly ludicrous one that made him giggle rather unmanly.

"What's funny?" Katara asked, her eyes narrowing at him.

He smiled reassuringly at her and tenderly caressed her forehead until the beginning frown was smoothed away.

"Remember how I told you that it would hurt when you lost your virginity?"

She nodded, her eyes widening. She probably thought the moment had arrived now.

"I just thought that with us being able to feel everything the other is feeling, I might have reason to fear the event just as much as you."  
After a moment's hesitation, an unladylike snort came from her, followed by a soft chuckle.

"As long as you don't bleed."

Zuko found himself disinclined to consider even the possibility.

"I'm not afraid, Zuko," Katara whispered, bringing his attention back to her.

He lowered his head and pressed a tiny kiss on the tip of her nose.

"That's good," he whispered, while breathing another tiny kiss on her cheek, and then another one just above the corner of her mouth, "and I promise I shall drive you so mad with desire, you won't feel any pain."

"Mmmhhmm"

The purring sound vibrated enticingly against his lips, and with her naked body rubbing invitingly against the whole length of him, he was tempted beyond measure to move the trail of his kisses further south.

She lifted her chin, giving him full access to her throat. He followed the straight column down to the hollow at the base of it, where the pendant of her necklace had once rested. Fascinated with the shiny pearls of perspiration gathering there, he dipped the tip of his tongue into the tiny pool.

She tasted like she smelled. Like summer rain and fresh dew, like salt and sweetness, like heaven and like sin.

He wondered if she tasted like this anywhere else, and he was determined to find out.

Moving further down, he blazed a trail of kisses down to the valley between her breasts, possessively curving both of his hands around the luscious flesh, that moulded itself into his hands as if they were made to fit her to perfection.

With a lack of reserve that thrilled him, she thrust her breasts more firmly into his gently kneading grasp. When he roughly dragged the pads of both his thumbs simultaneously over her taut nipples, her breathless moans turned into soft cries.

Her nipples tightened even more, hard as pebbles now, a sight so mouth-watering, he was unable to resist. With the fervour of a starving man, he latched onto one of them, greedily suckling and probing the hard, puckered flesh with the tip of his tongue.

Hot surges of arousal flared through him, originating from her and permeating into his body unfiltered and undiluted, painfully heightening his own excitement.

Only a distinct notion that there was more torturous pleasure to be had, more exquisitely delicious sensations to experience, made him steel himself against his desire to take her right here and now, forbearance be damned.

When he felt her nipple lengthen and thicken in his mouth, he drew back a little and admired what he had wrought, only to switch sides and lavish the same attention on the one he had neglected.

Katara's fingers dug deeply into his shoulders, which made him absurdly glad that she had had the foresight to heal his wound first.

He drew back again, his cock twitching at the sight of a slightly distended, darkened nipple glistening with the wetness his mouth had left.

The primitive creature inside him gloried in leaving his marks, his scent and his touch on every part of her body, imprinting himself so deeply on her that no other man would ever suffice in his stead.

Further down his mouth wandered, tasting her sweat, basking in the pleasure of her velvety soft skin sliding so wonderfully decadent against his lips.

He knew from his former explorations that she was ticklish around her belly button, so he gave the area a wide berth. No reason to make her laugh when he wanted her to cry his name in ecstasy.

As the goal of his journey downward seemed to become clear to her, her body stiffened. By the time his lips grazed the waistband of the lacy piece of fabric that covered her most intimate area, her cries and moans had quietened, and her legs were tightly clamped together.

_What are you doing?_

"Kissing you," he said, breathing the words hotly against her flesh.

An answering shudder went through her whole body and a strangled moan came from deep within her chest.

_But it's…_

"It will taste like you," he said, provoking another shudder. "And I love you."

Not wanting to waste any more time, he scattered tiny fleeting kisses over the silky-soft skin of her inner thighs, as far as he could reach.

It seemed odd that – after all the intimacy they had shared already – she would be so shy with him. But then again, there had to be a lingering distrust after his cruel betrayal just three nights ago, a distrust that made her hesitate to reveal herself to him so unreservedly.

Instinctively he felt that if she gave him this, it would mean she had forgiven him completely.

Under his soft and unceasing ministrations, her thighs slowly parted, revealing more white lace, darkened at the centre by a sizeable damp patch.

Although he rather suspected the underwear was new, he had no patience to remove it in an orderly fashion. Slipping his thumbs under the waistband on either side of her hip, he scorched the material and swiftly peeled the flimsy remnants away.

His breath caught in his chest at the sight before him. Like the petals of a pink rose, coated with the dew of an early morning, her sex lay bare before him, the door to his personal paradise.

He'd never been to paradise.

………

As the first stroke of his tongue set every last nerve-ending in her sensitive folds on fire, Katara thought that this probably shouldn't feel so good.

Some last shred of maidenly inhibition, a remnant of self-conscious shame told her that what he was doing was somehow wrong, was not how it was supposed to be. That it shouldn't so excite her to feel the slightly rough surface of his tongue explore her most intimate places, that it shouldn't feel so good to feel his lips wrapping around the tiny nub of flesh that rose toward him, begging for attention.

It probably shouldn't affect her at all that he was moaning constantly, the vibration of the throaty sound further aggravating her arousal. Maybe it shouldn't matter that he seemed to be enjoying himself immensely, that between the wet sounds of laving and suckling and the satisfied purring of someone whose tastes are well met, it seemed as if he was all but making a meal out of her.

But modesty, or what was left of it, fell completely to the wayside when she felt a long finger entering her welcoming opening. All sense of guilt and proper decorum abandoned, she grabbed his hair in her fist and pushed her hips upward, closer against his mouth, farther impaling herself on his invading finger. Or fingers, as it were, because she felt a more profound intrusion only shortly later, a second finger stretching her inner walls, causing a slight burning that balanced precariously on the border between pleasure and pain.

But as the fingers started to pump in and out of her in a mesmerizing, even rhythm, all discomfort fled, replaced by the want for more.

While one of her hands securely held onto his hair, the other desperately sought for purchase somewhere else, for something to cling to against the sweeping tide that threatened to overpower her and carry her away to destruction and nothingness.

Fingers curling, she found the hold she was looking for in the soothing stillness and inherent power of every body of water in her vicinity. Their energy fortified her against the raging blaze inside her, carried her upward into the blackness of the sky, until she saw only glittering stars around her, forming a silvery pathway to her feet that led in winding curves to a far away, invisible goal.

She turned and found Zuko standing behind her, smiling and happy, but she knew he would not follow her and, as long as he did not, she would not go either.

The stars around her started to pulse in rhythm with the drawing, burning pulse inside her core, a pulse that roared in her ears and send searing bursts of fire along her nerve endings, beginning and ending at the place between her legs, where all her awareness, all sense of her physical being was now centred.

At the precise moment when she thought she could not take any more of this barrage of sensation, the stars exploded into a blinding shower of glittering, multi-coloured fragments, and as her soul was forced back into her body, she felt herself convulsing with every muscle in her body clenching uncontrollably. She heard herself scream with a hoarse voice that didn't sound like her own, and she felt cold water raining down on her, cooling her overheated skin.

As the waves of pleasure slowly abated and she got at least a bit of control back over her body, she opened her eyes to see Zuko smiling up at her. Water dripped down from black tresses that were plastered wetly to his head. Water glistened on his shoulders. Water squished under her in the mattresses and dripped coldly from the canopy of the bed.

"You soaked us," he said in an amused and rather proud tone.

She nodded, still too dazed to fully comprehend what had happened, much less able to do anything about it.

Her inner muscles were still clenching, still sending aching waves of pleasure through her. Clenching around… nothing. With his fingers gone, she felt a yearning emptiness inside her.

Emptiness that begged to be filled.

_Zuko, I want you. All of you._

His eyes bore into hers, the dark bottomless pupils eclipsing the shining gold, leaving only a thin sparkling corona.

_Not yet, love. __We have to wait just one more day._

His words echoed hollowly through her brain, making no sense whatsoever.

"Wait?" she asked, perplexed. "Why?"

Billowing steam rose from him as he tried to dry himself, and only then did it occur to her that she might be able to deal with the water all around them.

Weakly, she bent the water from around them and sent it splashing through the window.

"Because it's customary for young women of the Water Tribe to go as virgins into marriage."

Katara stared, tried to grasp his meaning and stared again.

Finally, she determined that with him still positioned half-lying between her spread thighs, sensible thought would be hard to come by.

She scooted upward into a sitting position, closed her legs and curled her feet under her. Rearranging what was left of her now completely ruined dress, she covered herself and tried once again to sort through his vague hints.

"So you want to wait until we are married?" she asked, when she had her brain back in working order.

Zuko nodded.

"But that's such a long time," she said, half-wailing.

She could not hide her disappointment, although his consideration for the customs of her people touched her deeply.

He sighed.

"I know. One day sounds like such a short time, but right now…"

There he was again, harping on about one day.

Finally, a completely outrageous thought struck her.

"Zuko," she said haltingly, hoping she was mad for even thinking that, "you don't actually mean we will get married tomorrow, right?"

His slanted eyes went perfectly round at her question and Katara drew a breath for a mighty sigh of relief, which never came.

"Of course we will get married tomorrow," he said and the breath hitched in her chest. "I can't wait any longer and it's the perfect opportunity. We're in the one city where half the world gets married, I'm sure we could even use the inner sanctum of the Shrine, Lee-Sa told me you found the perfect wedding dress, my mother is here—"

"But mine isn't!" she cried at the top of her lungs.

He stopped in the midst of rattling off all the advantages of getting married so soon and right here, and looked at her utterly dumbfounded.

A trace of hurt flashed through his eyes and she had to turn her head away.

"But Katara," he said softly, "your mother—"

"I know," she said.

Then she got up and walked to the window, staring sightlessly into the night.

"What I meant is: I'm alone here. Without my family or my friends."

She heard bedclothes rustle behind her and then the padding of naked feet, slowly advancing.

"You mentioned the customs of the Water Tribe," she continued. "You should know that a man has to ask the permission of the girl's father before he can marry her. Or at least the permission of one male relative."

She felt his warmth radiating from close behind her, but he did not touch her. And when he spoke, there was no anger or reproach in his voice, only a deep resigned sadness.

"Neither your father nor your brother will ever approve of me."

The truth of that sentence seemed irrefutable, although she willed herself to hope for something different.

"You don't know that," she said through gritted teeth, swallowing against the burning of tears in her throat.

"I know that," he whispered and breathed a kiss into her hair.

She swayed backwards, feeling suddenly weak, and was immensely relief to feel his arms encircling her, holding her securely against a firm, naked chest.

"But of course the date of our wedding is your decision alone. I just thought it was…"

"Practical?" she asked, chuckling mirthlessly.

An answering chuckle rumbled through his chest, causing renewed excitement to stir her blood.

"Yes," he murmured perilously close to her ear.

One of his hands wandered to her hip and pulled her flush against him, so that the small of her back came into close contact with an impressive, burning erection, prodding at her through his trousers.

"Sensible, romantic and sorely needed."

Her senses came to life like wakened by an explosion, and she turned in his arms, wrapping her own around his midst.

"I love you, Zuko," she said, still fighting back tears. "And I don't want to wait. If we could just have a Water Tribe ceremony some day with my family and friends attending, that'd be enough for me. But my father…"

The last of her words were swallowed by a hiccupping sob, as the tears at last broke free.

Zuko gently caressed her hair, kissing it from time to time and held her closely while she let the tears flow until her sobs were far apart and tearless.

"If he were here," Zuko said then. "If your father was here, or your brother, and if I asked them and they said no, what would you do?"

She stilled at his question, captivated by a consideration she had never even thought to entertain.

Yes, it was customary for the man to ask permission, but would she truly abide by whatever her brother or father decided for her? Had she ever let Sokka even decide as much as how to pitch their tent or where to place their sleeping furs?

Did her father – after leaving them to fend for themselves all those years ago – even still have the right to decide such an important question for her?

Hadn't she, barely more than a girl at the beginning of their journey, made pretty good decisions for the past year, from joining Aang to becoming a master waterbender?

Would she really let her father, or Sokka, forbid her to marry the man who had become such an important part of her life, whom she loved more than anyone else?

She smiled up at him through the remnants of her tears.

"I would marry you anyway."

………

For a long while, not much was said after Katara's declaration.

There were a few encouraging words, only barely discernible between the groans of pleasure. Katara also thought she might have heard a few rather coarse expressions as well as the taking the names of deities in vain.

The candles on the nightstands flared high and bright for a long while, but, forewarned from the last time, Katara subtly used her own firebending powers to keep the flames from igniting anything.

Both of them sated and rather tired, they curled their naked bodies around each other, basking in the slowly diminishing heat generated between their skins.

Katara sighed in contentment as Zuko's body spooned against hers from behind, and a strong arm wrapped around her middle, drawing her impossibly closer.

A pleasant drowsiness tugged at her eyelids like a lead weight, the sensual pictures of tonight's activities melted into a colourful, pleasant stream that carried her ever closer to oblivion.

As if compelled by a constant need to touch and caress, Zuko's fingertips danced languidly over her upper arms and shoulders, creating a warm glow in her heart, the indescribably feeling of being loved unconditionally.

With a wide smile on her lips, she thought that the sweetest dreams could not hope to come close to the reality of this situation.

And tomorrow, it would get better still.

Zuko's roaming fingers came to a sudden stop on her shoulder, and then he drew them away. The withdrawal of the loving caress prompted her to open her eyes.

She jerked away from him in alarm when she felt the heat of a living flame approaching her skin, close enough to cause some discomfort.

_What are you doing?_

The flame died at once.

_I'm sorry, __did I hurt you?_

She turned around to look at him, and found his face softened with awe and wonder.

"What is it?"

He gestured helplessly to her shoulder.

"There's…"

Then he shook his head, and got up, motioning for her to follow him.

Her body protested vehemently against this disturbance of her much needed rest.

"This had better be worth getting up for," she grumbled as he pulled her in front of the mirror.

For a moment, she was struck speechless by the unexpected sight of a naked man and woman. Had someone told her before, she would never have believed that the sight of Zuko's naked body pressed so closely against hers could be thrilling.

But it was.

"Quite a sight, isn't it?" he purred into her ear, and she couldn't help but smile.

"Stop reading my thoughts," she admonished without meaning it. She rather liked him knowing what she was thinking.

"That was what _I_ was thinking," he said. "But that wasn't what I wanted to show you."

He turned her around with her back to the mirror and then lighted a white flame in his hand. When she turned her head around to see, she could barely believe her own eyes.

Emblazoned on her shoulder, as if delicately painted in the ivory colour of Zuko's skin, was a perfect symbol of the White Lotus.

* * *

tbc

If you're wondering what to get me for Christmas: a nice review will do. :)


	22. Another Journey

_**A/N:**_ Surprise! I'm still alive. There is really nothing more to say than that I am very sorry about having let all you guys wait for so long. There were a thousand good reasons for not continuing, but none of them would excuse a two months hiatus.  
I am very grateful to all of you who constantly reminded that I had a story to finish, it was the kick in the butt I needed to stop being lazy and start writing again. Thanks for you faithful support!  
Special thanks to _IheartZUKO_ for her fanart for this story. My very first!

**_A/N2:_** Since it has been so long and in case it slipped your mind: Content warning!

* * *

**_Chapter __22: Another Journey_**

The sun had already moved past its zenith, casting a warm golden glow over the land, when an old man stared, deep in thought, at the leisurely rippling waves of the river Huang.

Humid heat stilled the movements of every creature around him; even the wool-pigs he was herding lay lazily in the grass, chewing the cud. Only a few honey-searching insects were busy between the sweet smelling wildflowers on the little hill, adding a soft hum to the peaceful serenity.

The man often stood there, gazing at the wide river, trying to glimpse the magnificence of the Shrine of Mahal that one could see sparkling like a diamond in the distance.

At first, he didn't hear the sound the river made, the soft whoosh of waves, the slapping of water against the softly curved shoreline. It only sounded as if the bees had increased their activity. He could almost taste the rich sweetness of wildflower honey on his tongue at the thought.

But the sound grew louder, more distinctively like moving water.

Then, in the distance, he saw it.

A little boat, just big enough for two people, came rapidly closer. Moving upstream as if hauled by an unseen hand.

When it was close enough for him to see it clearly, he could distinguish two people standing in it.

Standing! As if they didn't know how unwise it was to stand upright in a boat.

The bow of the boat ploughed so fast through the water, it left white foam on the tips of the waves that fled away from it in straight lines.

A young woman stood at the bow, her arms held half lifted at her sides in a rigid stance, her face intense with concentration.

Right behind her towered a young man, broad-shouldered, with an equally solemn expression on his face and in the same posture.

Even from the distance, the old man appreciated the exceptional beauty of the woman, and smiled at the way the wind so delightfully revealed her fine curves by pressing her plain blue dress tightly against them.

The young man looked like one of the famed Dark Warriors, with his long black coat fluttering behind him.

In this moment, the old man started to believe that the Spirits sometimes created men and women destined to be together like those two surely were.

With a sigh and a chuckle he wished that this was true for his wife and him.

During his musings, the boat had swished past him, the beautiful pair having not even noticed him standing there.

After the last of the boat's bow waves had slapped weakly against the shore, after the humming of the bees and the chewing of the wool-pigs once again became the only sound in the heavy air, the old man asked himself if maybe he hadn't just been hallucinating.

Must be the heat, he thought, shaking his head. Surely it must have been the heat.

………

The only thing they had agreed on regarding their journey back was the fact that they would take the same way that they had come.

Should Azula have decided to lie in wait for them somewhere along the way, it was all the better. They had to face her sooner or later anyway.

It was left unspoken, but was done nonetheless, that they would change the boat back to the ostrich-horse in the little village where they had bought it, and that they would use the same camp-sites for resting as they had done before, if for no other reason than sentimentality.

They went about setting up camp with wordless efficiency, as if they had done it a thousand times.

Zuko lit a fire while Katara rummaged through the vast amount of provisions Lady Ursa had insisted they should take with them. Their only chance was to eat most of it, before they had to carry it all the way back to the other boat with which they would cross the sea.

While she prepared what could have easily been called a feast, she watched Zuko rubbing the ostrich-horse's fur with some dry grass he had found.

He had divested himself of his cloak and shirt, his pale skin lightly gleaming with sweat at the exertion in the humid warmth.

Katara's mouth suddenly went dry. The whole day she had yearned for his touch, a feeling like the cut of a dull blade, not painful, but noticeable. But now the blade grew sharp, an insistent ache that drew her insides tight with something she had learned to recognize as desire.

Desire to feel naked male skin under her fingertips, to relish the rippling of strong, hard muscle just beneath the smooth surface, to taste him, to hear the sounds he made when arousal overtook him, to have his hands all over her, his arms around her, his mouth searing her skin with kisses that burned their way all the way to her heart and soul.

Desire to have him give her everything, to unite with him in a way they had not yet experienced.

From the moment she had woken in his arms this morning, during an awful day of dreadful choices, emotional upheaval and nerve-wrecking meetings about war and destruction, this had been most prominent in her thoughts, whether she had wanted it or not.

She was angry at fate for denying her this little bit of personal happiness and felt guilty for craving it when the world at large had so many more pressing problems that she had sworn to help solve.

But all that guilt didn't compare to the guilt she felt for disappointing him.

And she knew that he was disappointed.

Not that he had said anything. He had been all calm and understanding, but he hadn't touched her since they left Tang-Ma-Hal, had hardly spoken to her.

Before they left, they had meditated at the turtle-duck pond, watched only by little Li's beady eyes.

She had tried to communicate that she was sorry, but he had very decisively declared that there was no need for an apology, that he understood.

She sighed for the billionth time that day.

If only Lee-Sa hadn't bought that dress. _That_ dress.

Maybe then she would not have realized how utterly wrong it would be to marry so far away from her family, amongst people she had only met a few days prior.

Maybe then she would not have run crying to her husband-to-be and told him that they had to wait.

Maybe then he would not have looked as if someone had turned him to stone.

His mother had saved the situation by suggesting a very old ritual, usually performed amongst the air nomads. Away from the air temples for most of their lives, they had not always had a monk at hand when a wedding needed to take place for some pressing reason, so they had invented a ritual called hand-fasting.

It consisted only of the pair in question promising eternal love and devotion to another, in front of one or two witnesses. Over the course of a year, the vows had to be repeated in front of a monk to be made eternally binding, but for all intents and purposes, after a hand-fasting, a couple was married.

She had convinced him that this was what they should do, that they still could have a grand ceremony in front of everyone once the war was over.

They had stood in front of the Spring of Life in the holy chamber of the order, surrounded by ancient tapestries, and vowed to have and to hold, to love and to cherish.

Only Ursa and Toma had been their witnesses, and no one else knew about this. Not even Lee-Sa. Well, especially not Lee-Sa, who had had tears in her eyes when she heard that the wedding was off.

And Katara had insisted that until she said something different, no one else was to know about their marriage. She still held out hope that she could break the news gently to her brother and father.

And to Aang.

_Dinner is ready_, she communicated through her thoughts, and then smilingly shook her head. She could as well have called out to him.

It wasn't as if someone was listening, as if they had to hide or to behave. It was only the two of them again, and the spirits knew how much she had looked forward to this.

While Zuko went to wash himself, Katara kept her eyes firmly on the food. She wasn't sure she could bear watching him getting all wet.

Want gnawed at her insides and she knew she had to keep her hands busy, to stop herself from touching him as soon as he was in reaching distance.

She tried to divert her thoughts by thinking of her fight with commander Toma this morning. The man had found himself frozen to the next wall the minute she had learned his name. He was the man responsible for burning Zuko, after all.

Not a little insulted and mad, Toma had demanded a formal match, which had resulted in another humiliation for him.

Afterwards, he had muttered under his breath that women were supposed to be healers, not fighting waterbenders.

Even before Katara could explode at him for the remark, Zuko had informed him haughtily that apparently only women were able to be both.

In the afternoon, though, Toma had managed to be a good sport about the situation and had volunteered to represent the Water Tribe at their hand-fasting. Since he was constantly at Lady Ursa's side, he had heard the whole sad story.

They ate their dinner as they had done everything else today since the moment Zuko had briefly kissed her after their wedding vows, in utter silence.

His thoughts were closed to her, and when she looked into his eyes it was like looking into a polished golden mirror: she saw all of herself and nothing of him.

Even him yelling at her, sulking and throwing temper fits would be better than this.

"I am sorry," she said.

"We've been over that," he said, flat patience freezing all warmth out of his voice. "There is no need for you to be sorry. I understand."

"Maybe you do," she said. "But you're hurt."

For a second, he looked as if he wanted to say something, but then he just continued to eat with measured, even movements and then stood up silently when he was finished.

Chilly night air began to creep upon them from the river.

Throwing his cloak over his bare shoulders, Zuko went to a little hill near the place where he had tethered their horses and stood unmoving, looking into the distance.

Something inside her snapped at the sight.

She would not be denied his touch any longer, nor would she accept his cold distance.

After all, she was his wife and this was their wedding night, however unusual and secret it might be.

Yes, they hadn't thought it would be that way, but then again, had they planned anything of what had happened to them these past few weeks?

She peeled herself out of her clothes until she was completely naked, then took a good soak in the stream that was pleasantly warm from the day's stifling heat.

After she had combed her hair, she wrapped a light blanket around herself and walked to where he still stood like a particularly beautiful marble statue.

"We should go to bed," she said when she was in hearing distance, angry at herself for the raw need that oscillated through her voice.

"I'm not tired," he gave back, not looking at her.

She let the blanket slip from her shoulders, only holding the ends loosely in her hands, exposing her whole body to him although he did not look in her direction.

"I didn't say anything about sleeping."

He spun around so quickly he startled her, his eyes wide with honest surprise.

They widened even more at the sight of her naked form, something other than surprise lighting up his whole face, arresting his movements in a sudden frozen stillness.

"Katara," he strangled out, sounding oddly choked. "I thought you…" He shook his head, swiped his hand through his hair and tried again. "I thought all of that was because you didn't want…" – he gestured toward her – "this. At least not yet."

A hot flush of annoyance rooted her to the spot for a second and then she snatched the blanket back up to cover herself. She couldn't talk to him properly if she was naked.

Stepping closer to him, her quick bout of anger evaporated as she saw pitiful male bewilderment on his face.

For someone claiming so eloquently to understand, he hadn't understood a single thing.

"If it wasn't for this," she said, enunciating the last word the way he had, "I wouldn't have married you today at all."

She smiled up at him, knowing full well that this was putting things a bit too simply, but then he didn't look like he was able to grasp complicated reasoning right now.

A strange flash of emotion went over his features just before he broke out in a wide, happy smile.

Only then did she realize how rejected he must have felt, thinking she had avoided an official wedding ceremony to shirk what then would have been her wifely duties.

"You're my husband, Zuko, and this is our wedding night," she said firmly, trying to keep the nervousness she felt out of her voice. "And if you don't do your duty and make love to me, I might have to freeze you to a tree."

His smile turned into a grin and he raised an eyebrow.

"You only married me to get me into bed?"

She sighed dramatically, more moved than she would acknowledge by his constant need to be assured that she truly wanted to be with him, even if it was disguised as playful teasing.

"I just can't satisfy you, can I? At first you're sullen because you think—"

The rest of her words were lost in a passionate kiss given her by her husband, who seemed suddenly all too eager to do his duty.

The blanket slid to the grass, forgotten.

After a delightful eternity during which no words were spoken, he drew back the tiniest fraction, each of them greedily gulping in each other's breath as they panted in mutual excitement.

"You _can_ satisfy me, sweet wife," Zuko whispered breathlessly against her open lips. "And you're well on your way to succeed."

If she hadn't been so aroused, she might have given some sharp answer, something to put him in his place and show him once and for all that she wouldn't be the "sweet wife" he imagined.

But then he claimed her mouth in another soul-searing kiss, a deep growl vibrating through him as if a wild beast had woken inside him, and every rebellious thought fled her mind.

He picked her up as if she weighed nothing and carried her to their sleeping furs that she had already arranged.

"That big bed would've been so much better for this," he whispered, a note of regret creeping into his desire-roughened voice as he gently put her down.

She smiled.

"If you hadn't set half the place on fire last night…"

He chuckled while struggling to get out of his pants as fast as humanly possible.

"It was you who nearly drowned half the guests."  
Katara grinned at the memory of a squirming Ling Fei, clearly torn between his adoration for the Dark Warriors and his fear for the well-being of his other guests, when he had asked them if they couldn't possibly try to find other accommodation that wasn't as vulnerable to the destructive force of whatever nightly activities caused the alternating flashes of fire and waves of storming water.

"Well," she whispered, impatiently drawing him to her for another kiss, "we can't hurt anyone around here."

A dark shadow fell over glowing amber as he stopped mid-movement.

"Only you."

"Don't be silly," she chided while greedily running both her hands down from his neck over his chest.

His remaining resistance melted when her lips found the dragon's mark on his neck and her fingertips slightly teased his nipples.

Like a ravenous predator, he fell upon her, plundering her mouth with bruising kisses.

"It's burning me alive," he panted between kisses, his hands roughly kneading every bit of soft flesh they could find. "I can't slow down."

Curiously enough, she minded neither his fierce passion nor the firmness of his touch. After all, she needed this reassurance of his unbroken desire for her just as much as he needed to know that she wanted him still, despite everything.

"It's all right," she whispered.

And then she was beyond words as his questing fingers found the place between her legs that felt moist and swollen and more than ready for his touch. Another deep growl of pleased surprise vibrated against her lips as his fingers slipped effortlessly into her, finding no resistance whatsoever.

He spread his fingers and curled them a little, preparing her, and she was about to tell him she was as ready for what was to come as one could possibly be, when one of his movements caused a hot explosion inside her belly and she clenched around his fingers.

She moaned in surprise at the strange sensation. He had not even touched the spot that usually brought that blistering pleasure that finally carried her to release. This was something completely different.

"Do that… do that again," she whispered, shifting even closer against his hand.

He hesitated for a split second and she opened her eyes to look why. She found him gazing at her with open amazement. Then he repeated the movement from before and her body clenched so intensely it almost hurt. She wanted to tell him to stop, wanted to beg him to continue while he stroked inside her with steady movements, his fingers hitting that secret spot inside her over and over. Her body strained against him, every muscle tight with anticipation.

She could take no more of this torture and still there was no end in sight, the pressure mounting with no sign of imminent release.

"Let go," he whispered next to her ear and the mesmerizing quality of his mellifluous voice made her body instinctively obey.

She relaxed for the fraction of a second, but it was enough for the tension to dissolve into heaving, pounding waves of bliss, rolling through her with unstoppable force.

When she opened her eyes again, she half expected them to be surrounded by water, but their bedding was surprisingly dry, the only wetness she could detect flowed richly from her opening, making a sucking sound when Zuko removed his hand.

Suddenly, she understood. She had held on to the water as to a life raft during a raging storm. It had not made one bit of difference to the storm, but she had just found out that she enjoyed herself even more if she just let herself drown.

Zuko looked down at her with a concentrated, worried frown. She was about to assure him again that she was all right, when she noticed his hand once again fumbling between their bodies. Before she could discern what he was about to do, a blunt object pressed insistently against her oversensitive folds.

She gasped when she realized what he was doing. That was it, the turning point, the moment she had anticipated and even – when she was honest – dreaded a little. Not because of the pain, but because she could not abide the thought of disappointing him in that area, of not being what he expected in a woman.

The pressure eased at once, the frown deepening on his face. She scooted closer, signalling him without words that she wanted what he did. Then he was back, the satiny hot surface of his erection softly brushing against her skin before he bore down again.

Her flesh parted willingly for him at first, but only shortly later the curiously pleasant sensation of being stretched turned into an uncomfortable burning.

Sweat beaded on Zuko's forehead and ran in little rivulets down his face as he stopped his movements once again, about to move back.

She knew he felt her pain, but she also sensed his need, the brutal pounding of boiling blood in his veins. She could almost hear the agonized roars of the beast inside him, that demanded that he take what he needed and not mind the consequences.

There was no help for it, she thought resignedly, this had to be over quickly or they would torture each other for much longer than necessary.

As if it had sprung from an unfathomable well of ancient female wisdom, a sudden idea formed in her head.

With a quick movement she lifted her legs and locked her ankles behind his back, impaling herself on the hard intruder with a jerk of her hips.

The ripping pain she had expected at that action turned out to be a rather harmless pinch. And even that she would not remember later, because the sensation was superseded by the exhilarating feeling of hard male flesh gliding into female softness, filling, stretching, and then nudging – just barely – the barrier that was the door to her womb.

With all the knowledge she had about the workings of the female body, she had never been more aware about her own than in just this moment.

She had never felt more complete.

As infuriating as it was to admit that she needed another person to make her feel whole, she knew at the same moment that this was who she was, who she was meant to be.

She had barely wrapped her mind around that revelation, when she felt him withdraw from her. A bout of panic flashed through her at the thought that this might have been all, that somehow he had already finished what he needed to do while she had been pondering the greater meaning of things. She locked her arms and legs around him, holding him tightly in a full, intimate embrace. Still he did not stop his retreat.

But then he plunged. Her body rocked backward at the force of that sudden assault.

He drew back again, thrust again, and this time she noticed the delicious friction the glide along her alert nerve-endings created. She began to relish the retreat, to anticipate the deep inward strokes.

Zuko's whole body was drawn tight like a bow-string, muscles quivering with an effort she did not understand, brows furrowing with a concentration that looked rather unpleasant.

She vaguely felt that he was holding back something, but she was already too wrapped in her own delight to pay much attention to his feelings. He had her under him, after all, he could do what he jolly well pleased and it was his fault if he did not.

Fed up with being jostled like a rag doll, she met his next downward stroke with a decisive movement of her hips. Their bodies slapped together audibly, but whatever sound they made was drowned at the pained groan from Zuko's throat.

"Katara," he rasped, and her name had never sounded more than a plea.

She met him again the next time and the next, and found that her inborn knowledge included her ability to settle easily into this age-old rhythm.

He groaned constantly now, murmuring her name a few times between thrusts that increased in speed, until he broke the rhythm and slammed into her with fast, erratic movements.

Unable to meet him any longer, she clung to him for dear life, racing with him to that peak they both sought, and held onto him when the first wave of another release made her body clench tightly around him.

He reared up on his hands then and threw his head back, giving a loud roar that sounded more animal than human.

Hot fluid spilled inside her, thrilling her with its life-giving possibility. In that moment, she almost regretted having taken Lady Ursa's advice about using an extract from the leaves of the fire-lily to prevent a pregnancy.

She knew that once reason came back to her, she would recognise this to be a bout of sentimentality she could not yet afford. It would be irresponsible to bring a child into their situation, when a war was still to be fought and won.

Still she could not help feeling as if she had not yet completed what they were meant to do.

………

The journey back to where they had last seen her brother seemed to Zuko much shorter than it had been when they had been travelling the other direction. One reason for it might have been their much greater efficiency in moving the boat. But Zuko knew it also had to do with their certain knowledge that their undisturbed time together was drawing to an end. There would be no intimacy whatsoever once they had met with his uncle, the Avatar and all her friends. She had made that unmistakably clear to him, although he had not yet figured out how he would manage to keep his hands off her.

He nestled a bit closer to where she lay curled up against him in their sleeping furs.

For nostalgia's sake, they had camped on the little rocky island where they had fought the last time and spent their night in the cave where they had taken shelter from the storm.

Married life, Zuko determined, agreed with him.

From the moment they had consummated their hasty and unorthodox marriage, Katara had been nothing but endearingly wifely. Catering to his every whim and all but anticipating his every need. Not that he required to be treated like this, of course, but she did it with such a satisfied air of having done her duty that he had not had the heart to tell her so.

And then there was the love-making.

Even after some hard thinking, he could not come up with a better term for it. With Mai, it had been having sex, with Katara it was something completely different. It was making love, and it was the most exhilarating, satisfying and moving experience he ever had.

He could not imagine being happier than he was right now.

Grey dawn lighted the mouth of the cave and he thought regretfully that they had to get up soon and be on their way. Absently, he stroked Katara's naked, silky soft skin, a pleasant craving once again stirring in his loins.

His lust for her had lost the sharp and painful edge it had had before they married, but it sometimes felt as if it was growing stronger with every day.

"Jus' a few more minutes," Katara mumbled sleepily and he smiled to himself.

He had kept the poor girl up until late last night, and then woken her again a few hours ago because he had been randy. An ailment that in his case always required two treatments.

"One for the dragon, and one for the man," Katara had joked yesterday and at his probably less than intelligent expression assured him that she didn't mind.

At all.

He grinned to himself once again as he remembered in vivid detail just how she had proven to him how much she enjoyed that aspect of their marriage.

Yes, being a married man certainly had its perks.

With self-satisfied smugness he remembered all the barbs he had to endure from the few male friends he had had as a boy, telling him in a pitying tone that he would have to marry when he was barely out of the schoolroom. A prospect that, to his twelve-year-old self, had seemed utterly appalling.

It was also said that the Fire-Lords and their heirs had to marry so soon, because the thoroughbred dragon line suffered from a steady decline of healthy children being born into the royal marriages. Some said that every royal marriage had only one child in it, a theory that at least Zuko's father had proven wrong.

But Azulon before him had sired only two children with two different women, although he had been married to his first wife for more than twenty years.

Could it be that the women could not bear more than one child?

As if by its own volition, his hand settled gently over Katara's smooth, flat belly.

They would not have such problems. Water-Tribe women were known for their fertility.

With a sudden searing bout of shame, he remembered his assault on Katara's village, remembered the women standing in a half circle around the elderly female who was their leader, their expression full of fear. And he remembered the many dozens of little round faces looking at him out of big, blue, frightened eyes.

How could she love him, after all that he had done?

His hand clamped down a little more firmly over her stomach, as if protecting the child that might be growing in there. He would never allow another man to threaten his children. He would always be there to protect them.

Again his thoughts were drawn back to the past, to the fact that so many Fire-Lords before him had had only one child.

His uncle had told him once how he had learned that he had a little brother.

"Imagine, Zuko," he had said jokingly. "Here I was, twenty eight years old, a general in the Fire Nation Army on the first campaign against the Earth Kingdom, and my friend General Yeong-Yeong comes into my tent and tells me rather gleefully that my father's wife had just borne him a healthy son. And him a man well on the very dark side of sixty!"

Zuko bit down hard on his lips not to wake Katara with his laughter at that memory. But shortly after Iroh had told him that funny story, he had also told him what his father's reasoning had been for marrying again and trying for another child.

He had been worried that something might happen to Iroh during the war and he would die without issue, which would have effectively ended the bloodline of the dragons.

A spare, Azulon had called his own son.

At the time, Zuko had felt sorry for how Iroh must have felt at his father's actions. But now it suddenly struck him how it must have felt to his father.

Knowing the court as Zuko did, he was sure no one had taken any pains to hide from Ozai that the whole reason for his existence, the whole point of it, was the possibility that his brother might die. Not an ideal basis for brotherly affection.

Nor, on second thought, a basis for developing into a warm and loving father himself. Was not his father's cold cruelty, and his burning ambition, explicable in that light?

Unbidden, another image sprung to his mind. A little girl, setting fire to a doll she had been given as a present from an uncle they barely knew. His sister.

Had she felt the same way about him? That she was only the second, regardless of how much smarter she was, how much better at firebending, how much better suited to be what he had been born with the right to become? Was it not, at the very least, an explanation for the bond that had always seemed to exist between father and daughter? A bond between the underestimated and under-appreciated second-born children?

Zuko's dark thoughts suddenly evaporated when he felt two firm breasts against his chest and a pair of questing hands venturing to some place below his waistline.

"Good morning, dear husband," she purred, a smile lightly touching her mouth. "Where have you been?"

Flaring passion cut through the wispy smoke of memory like a bright sunbeam and he brought his mouth down to hers to kiss her good-morning.

"Nowhere interesting," he murmured against her lips when they came up for air.

"We have to leave this island," Katara said by way of a reply, although the actions of her hands implied that she did not mean right now.

They both knew that the undisturbed intimacy of the past two days would have to last them for a while. The crushing regret he felt at that thought was almost overwhelming.

"When all this is over," he said, gently stroking her face, "I will take you to Ember Island."

"Ember Island?"

"The royal family has a summer palace there. We used to spend a few weeks every year there before my mother left."

"Sounds nice."

He nodded.

"It's a nice place, with quite a few bedrooms, and huge beds with lots of pillows."

Understanding glittered silvery in her eyes.

"I'll take you there," he continued, "and we'll make love day and night for at least a few weeks. And you will get pregnant and we will have half a dozen children."

Katara arched an eyebrow.

"Half a dozen?"

He did not smile.

"At least."

"Do I have anything to say about this?"

He swooped down for another kiss and just before their lips met murmured, "No."

………

By what rather seemed like a miracle, they had found the exact same spot where they had departed from Sokka last time, leaving him frozen to a tree.

The pleasant warmth their last love-making had stirred inside Katara rapidly cooled at the thought of having to face him again. As much as she looked forward to meeting everyone again, she dreaded all the accusations, the explanations, and the inevitable fighting.

Her stomach clenched with fear at the thought how Zuko would be treated by them, how long it would take for his new-found calm and serenity to crumble.

When they arrived at the hiding place that looked for all intents and purposes just like a hill in the landscape, she feared for a moment that their friends had moved to someplace else for some reason. That they might have been discovered.

But then she heard Zuko hiss in surprise behind her and as she whirled around, she saw her brother, holding a long and wickedly sharp-looking black sword at her husband's throat.

Sokka glowered at her, although his attention did not seem to waver from his quarry.

"Where have you been all this time, Katara?" he demanded. "Where is that jerk with whom you left and who the heck is this guy?"

Someone cleared his throat a few steps to the side and with an unexpected flash of joy Katara saw Toph standing leaned against a tree, arms folded, legs crossed at the ankles.

"I know I am supposed to be the blind one around here," she said, grinning from ear to ear, and Katara could have sworn she saw mischief lighting up the grey mist over her eyes. "But this is the jerk with whom Sugar Queen left."

Zuko slightly turned his head to her and delicately arched an eyebrow.

_Sugar Queen?_

Katara glowered back at him, something she could do at least as well as Sokka. Only Zuko could have the nerve and the arrogance to be amused over a stupid nickname while a sword was poised at his throat.

_Wait until she has __come up with a name for you. _

"Toph, you _are_ the blind one around here and this isn't Zuko. He has this ugly scar over half his face."

Sokka gave Zuko a speculative look and then added, "Besides, Zuko is not so tall."

"Would you like me to introduce myself?" Zuko asked calmly.

Perplexed, Sokka drew his sword back a little, allowing for a bow that impressed Katara with its neatness, considering the circumstances.

"My name is Zuko, member of the Guards of the White Lotus, and Lady Katara's…"

Katara gasped and then held her breath. He would not forget their agreement so soon, would he?

"… personal body-guard," he finished smoothly.

Sokka stared, his mouth hanging open. Toph still grinned.

Apparently not finished at all, Zuko then bowed to Toph.

"I am honoured to meet you, Lady Toph, mentor of Avatar Aang."

Now even Toph's jaw fell.

* * *

tbc 

A/N: Well, I know I don't deserve it after letting you wait so long, but could you please review anyway?


	23. Reunion

**_A/N: _**Again, I have to apologize for a longer than planned delay. Somehow, the lack of new episodes seems to impede my motivation.

Many thanks to gokusgirl for prompt revising and very helpful suggestions.

* * *

**_Chapter 23: Reunion _**

True to her unflappable nature, it took Toph only a mere moment to recover from her astonishment. She snapped her mouth shut almost audibly, plastered a wide sweet smile to her face and bowed deeply. So deeply in fact, that it could only mean that she paid tribute to Zuko's much higher rank, even though Toph herself came from an aristocratic family.

"It is a pleasure to meet you," she said with an amicability that had Katara convinced she had fallen asleep and was dreaming one rather strange dream.

Then Toph turned to Sokka, nose in the air, and said, "See, that's what I meant with impeccable manners. One just can't fake them."

Not heeding the comment, Sokka narrowed his eyes at Zuko, bringing the tip of his sword closer once again.

"Zuko as in: the jerk formerly known as _Prince_ Zuko?"

Zuko smiled.

"The very same. Pleased to finally make your acquaintance, _Sir_ Sokka."

Toph giggled in the background.

_Cut it out, Zuko,_Katara communicated to him warningly, but he appeared as if he had not noticed.

"And although this is an extremely beautiful sword you have there, I'd be obliged to you if you could point it somewhere else. Surely my uncle already informed you that I'm no longer a threat."

Sokka stood motionless for a long moment and then sheathed his sword in an elegant and practiced motion that made Katara wonder where he had learned to handle that weapon. He had probably found the sword master he had been looking for.

"You'll always be a threat, Zuko," Sokka said ominously and then turned to Toph.

"Take him away and watch him," he ordered her. "If he makes one wrong move…" – he made some vague motion that did not look pleasant – "Well, do your thing. I need to speak to my sister."

Toph giggled and then snapped her hand to her head in a mock military greeting.

"Aye!"

"I'd like to greet my uncle," Zuko requested, suspiciously sounding as if he was asking, not demanding.

"He's teaching Aang, and you can bet your ugly black cloak that I'm not letting you go anywhere near him while I'm not there to watch your every move."

Zuko slightly tilted his head.

"As you wish, Sir."

Katara knew her brother well enough to know that Zuko's demeanour was making him increasingly uncomfortable. And La only knew what Sokka would do once he was fed up with thinking that Zuko was making fun of him. Which he probably was.

Sokka walked her away until they were out of hearing distance, but could still see Toph and Zuko clear enough. A familiar sense of longing stirred inside her with every step she walked away from him. During the last few days, they had scarcely been out of reaching distance of each other.

Sokka suddenly whirled around to her, indignation burning in his eyes.

"You froze me to a tree!" he said accusingly.

Her first instinct was to defend herself, to explain the situation she had been in, to try to beg his forgiveness for the assault. As if she could see things with another sense than just with her eyes, she suddenly noticed something forming around Sokka, a pulsing, living band of silver light that wound around him and then reached to her, tying itself firmly around the both of them, growing stronger with every second, with every beat of their hearts.

And with a surprised gasp, she recognized it.

What bound her and Sokka was not the burning aura of fire and gold, of ice and silver that enveloped her and Zuko, but it was something that held an equal promise of indestructible strength.

Love.

She smiled as tears of joy rushed to her eyes.

"I missed you, too," she whispered before she launched herself at him and wound her arms around his neck. "And I'm so very sorry about what happened three weeks ago."

For a few moments, Sokka held himself still, but then she felt his arms encircle her, patting her back because now she was crying in earnest.

"There, there," he said, his voice sounding rather choked as well. "It was nothing I couldn't handle." Then his arms tightened. "But you have to promise me you won't do something like that again. You can't imagine how worried I was; even after Iroh swore to us Zuko would protect you with his life."

"I know," she sobbed, fearing that she would have to hurt him at least once more, and there was no telling if he would be so forgiving next time. "But he did protect me," she added and drew back from their embrace. "He was nothing but nice."

Sokka threw a belligerent gaze into Zuko's direction.

Katara looked too, only to feel another bout of violent longing somewhere deep within her belly. Zuko towered over Toph like a big black giant. The wind flapped his cloak, and whipped strands of jet-black hair onto his forehead. She wondered if she would ever stop feeling awed by his sheer male beauty. In comparison, Toph looked every bit the little girl she was, fragile and helpless. It took Katara some effort to remind herself that she was quite probably the world's most powerful earthbender, more than capable to defend herself against him. But even from the distance one could see that neither of them was a threat to the other. They seemed to be in an animated discussion, both waving their arms as if trying to get some point across.

"I just bet he was," Sokka said darkly, interrupting her thoughts. "And I don't like it."

Her head snapped back to him.

"What?"

"I don't like the way he's looking at you," Sokka clarified and Katara's heart dropped into her stomach. "Like a starving man looking at a piece of custard pie. I guess I have to tell him that there are lines he can't cross."

"Oh," Katara said and the one syllable seemed to be the only thing she was able to produce at the moment.

"I don't like him in general," Sokka added. "Look at him, he acts as if the world belongs to him."

Katara could have pointed out that Zuko had been brought up thinking that the world might one day belong to him. Even now, there was a huge possibility that at least a large part of it would one day be under his rule. But she wisely kept her mouth shut.

Then, as if a gust of wind had cleared away some dark clouds, Sokka's face brightened again.

"All right," he said exuberantly, "Let's go see Aang. He will be thrilled you're back."

………

"And I still think firebending is the most boring discipline ever!"

"It is not," Zuko said gruffly.

Although he was determined to be as amiable and polite to all the Avatar's followers as was humanly possible, his patience was worn thin by Katara's continuing discussion with her brother, the prospect of meeting his uncle and the Avatar, and last but not least that rather fruitless discussion he was having with that little blind earthbender. She was at least twice as stubborn as the element she could purportedly bend so masterfully.

"Of course it is. I watched them, you know," Toph said smugly, crossing her arms across her chest. "Your uncle and Aang. All they ever do is breathing and waving their arms around meaningfully. I think I have yet to feel a bit of fire."

She grinned up at him, and he was sure he saw a huge portion of smugness in the foggy green of her eyes.

He bit his bottom lip to keep himself from pointing out that her blindness was probably the reason she had seen no fire.

"Fire is a volatile and difficult element," he explained instead. "If you don't master the basic techniques, you can very well burn yourself with your own bending."

Toph inclined her head to the side, looking up at him speculatively.

"Had that ever happened to you?"

He averted his eyes from the inquisitive unfocused gaze she gave him and stared back at Katara who had grown pale during the last seconds.

"No," he said through gritted teeth.

Toph chuckled.

"Liar."

He remembered that Katara had once told him that Toph's acutely developed senses made it possible for her to tell when people were lying. Right now, though, he could not care less, because finally, Katara and Sokka seemed to have finished their conversation and started walking toward them.

"Smartass," he murmured distractedly.

"Now that would be Lady Smartass, if you please, Prince Zuko," Toph said.

They were still some distance away when Katara lifted her eyes to him, and a familiar jolt of want and longing fired through his body. It took all his willpower to stifle the growl that was forming in his chest.

"Are you going to tell Sokka?" the little girl whispered beside him.

"Tell him what?" he asked over the noise of his heartbeat pounding in his ears.

"That you… well, how to put it delicately?" she said and made a dramatic pause. "That you're doing his sister?"

No bucket of cold water could have cooled his ardour more efficiently.

"What?" he said while spinning around to the smugly grinning girl.

It was only barely conceivable that she knew about Katara and him, but what with her acute hearing, she might have picked up on his elevated heartbeat. But how on earth did she know about those things, know about such crude terms, when she was so much younger than Katara, who had known next to nothing?

Toph seemed to have read his thoughts. Again.

"I fought bending battles since I was eight years old," she said by way of an explanation. "I have not led as sheltered a life as our dear Lady SugarQueen over there."

"But how did you know?" he asked urgently, dragging Toph away from the advancing siblings by her arm. He needed the answer to that question before Sokka caught up with them.

"Hey, easy there, Prince Hothead, or I'll entomb you ten feet below those daisies."

"I need to know," he said, and after seeing her expectantly raised eyebrows he added, "Please."

"Over your heartbeat, that thundered along like a galloping commodo-rhino, I could hear SugarQueen's heart as well, and hers was only a little more subtle. Additionally, you both sweat sex so thickly it makes me sick. And…" she said, raising her voice meaningfully, "There is some weird energy that flows back and forth between you. I've noticed it before when you two were standing close, it crackled through the air like a bolt of lightning. But just now, I could feel it running through the earth."

She paused for a second, her face growing thoughtful.

"I've never felt something like this before. Like a hot current of something that went through solid ground, connecting you. As if you two had a bond of some sort."

Zuko looked down at her with a sense of intimidated awe. Katara had not exaggerated when it came to the girl's perceptiveness.

"I'd appreciate it if you'd keep your insights to yourself," he said softly. "Katara wants to break the news to her brother gently."

Toph snorted.

"Yeah, right," she said, with a dry chuckle. "She'll probably wait until Sokka finds you one day on top of her."

He leaned closer to her, giving her his most intimidating, princely stare, which – as it turned out – was wasted on a blind girl.

"Just keep quiet, okay?"

"Okay, okay," she said, still chortling. "I'll say nothing."

"About what will you say nothing?"

They both turned and found that the Water Tribe siblings had caught up with them.

"About the fact that our dear Prince had once burned himself while practicing firebending," Toph said smartly, and then gasped dramatically.

"Oh, how ill-mannered of me," she said. "Forgive me, Your Royal Fieriness, for having blurted your secret."

Sokka glowered at him, apparently trying to look menacing, which was a sight that was entertaining enough for Zuko to temporarily forget his foul mood.

"Of course he burned himself," Sokka said meaningfully. "It happens if one plays with fire."

Zuko bowed his head deferentially, mostly to hide his smile.

"Indeed you're right, Sir," he said.

_Zuko!_

He stole an amused glance at his exasperated wife.

_You're beautiful when you're upset with me._

Her eyebrows drew together.

_Keep that up and you can cook your own dinner. _

He smiled.

_I love you._

Katara suddenly seemed to find something extremely interesting to watch somewhere next to her feet. But even with her lowered face he could see the rosy glow on her cheeks.

_Love you, too._

At his side, Toph suddenly started to hop from one foot to the other.

"Ow, ouch, ow!" she shrieked, sounding as if in true distress.

All eyes went to her.

"What is it, Toph?" Sokka asked, walking to her.

Suddenly, Toph launched herself at him and clung to his neck, holding her feet carefully above the ground.

"The ground is hot," she said, "I think I burned my feet."

Looking unconvinced, Katara knelt down and put her hands on the grass.

"It's not hot," she said incredulously.

"I felt something, all right?" Toph said, her pale cheeks glowing with indignation.

Sure enough, the calloused soles of her feet were red and blistered in some places, as if she had walked over red-hot coals.

Since he had a pretty good idea what had caused her discomfort, Zuko tentatively approached Sokka.

"I'll carry her," he said.

For a split second, it looked as if Sokka would deny him just to prove he was strong enough to carry her as well, but the he let him take her.

"All right, you can carry her," he said and then turned to go. "She's heavier than she looks."

They started walking, with Sokka leading the way, his sister behind him.

Zuko with his light burden brought up the rear.

"Now Katara will hate me," Toph said, giggling. "I bet she'd rather you carried _her_."

Zuko said nothing.

"Whatever it was you two did before, don't do it again when I'm around."

"I am truly sorry," Zuko replied tersely, meaning every word. "I had no idea it would affect you like this."

They continued in silence, making their way through a bit of woodland. Dappled sunlight shone through the tree-tops, birds chirped merrily and their feet crunched over a thick carpet of decomposing leaves and little twigs. The scent of resin, damp earth and wood was a welcome change after three days of smelling salt-water.

After a few minutes, the forest ended abruptly, giving way to a lush meadow with ankle-high, soft, green grass. A bit farther away, the meadow turned into a sandy riverbank, where two people practiced a set of synchronous movements.

"Aang!" Katara yelled and they both stopped mid-movement.

Katara took off at a remarkable fast speed and only seconds later had her arms wrapped around the bare-chested boy who barely reached to her breast-bone.

"If you grind your teeth any harder, they'll crack," Toph said dryly from somewhere beneath his chin. "And I think you can put me down now."

With great care, he sat the girl onto to ground. He was about to straighten again, when something nudged him into his backside, almost succeeding into sending him sprawling over the hapless little earthbender.

He spun around only to find himself staring into two huge brown eyes, framed by snowy, feathery soft fur.

"Hey, there…uhm… Appa, was it?" Zuko tried tentatively.

Back in Ba-Sing-Se, when he had freed the animal from its jailors, the bison had turned back to him for a moment just before taking flight, nudging his shoulder with his nose. Although Zuko generally didn't believe that animals had personalities, he had been convinced that Appa had meant to thank him.

Now it looked as if he recognized him. His suspicion was confirmed when Appa growled, then opened his mouth and a warm, slightly damp tongue rasped over him from the tip of his boots to the top of his head.

Despite his momentary surprise, Zuko began to laugh, opened his arms and buried both his hands into the white fur, nuzzling his face into the softness.

"Well, big boy, everything all right with you?" he asked, still unaccountably moved by the bison's friendliness.

Appa gave one more deep growl and then trotted away, resuming his grazing.

When Zuko turned back to look if Katara was finally done wrapping herself around the Avatar, he found several faces staring at him with emotions ranging from bewilderment to mild amusement.

Regaining his composure, Zuko straightened his clothes, brushed a few white hairs from his black cloak, and walked with measured step over to where his wife still held the hand of the boy who was supposed to be the world' saviour. Even after going through the ritual of becoming a Guard of the White Lotus, Zuko still grappled with the concept of showing the proper deference to Aang.

After what seemed like an eternity, Katara stepped back from the Avatar and turned lightly to him.

Zuko did not look at her. Instead, he held the boy's gaze for a moment, seeing confused anger, and bitter resentment for a betrayal that was not yet forgiven.

With as much grace as he could muster, Zuko dropped to his knees and put his hands on the ground, bowing so deeply, his forehead touched the sand.

"Avatar Aang," he said after straightening a little, still on his knees and head still bent. "I came to beg your forgiveness for having turned against you in Ba-Sing-Se. In my name and in the name of the Order of the White Lotus, I offer you my sword, my bending powers, and my life for you to use as you see fit. Please allow me to aid your cause."

A long silence stretched between them, during which he had to force himself not to move.

"How will I know you won't betray me again?" Aang asked with a firm voice.

"I swore an oath," Zuko said. "I swore on my blood, my life and my honour that I would serve and protect the Avatar and all his followers wherever they went."

Another, shorter silence fell.

"Do you believe him?" Aang asked, but Zuko could not see at whom he had directed the question.

"I believe him," Toph yelled from where he had left her, and he smiled inadvertently at her easy acceptance. If the Avatar put as much stock into her abilities as everyone claimed, Toph's opinion should count for something.

"He has struggled with doing the right thing before," Sokka said coldly. "I don't doubt he means it now, but I'm not so sure it'll stay that way."

"My nephew may have had a hard time finding the right path," his uncle's serene voice floated to him, "but the Order would not have made him a guard if they had doubts about him."

Zuko dug his fingertips into the sand beneath his hands, forcefully keeping himself from jumping up and embracing his uncle. Until this very moment, he had not realized how much he had missed the old man.

"And Appa seems to like him, too," Toph added helpfully from the sidelines.

Sokka snorted.

"Maybe he's covered himself in honey or something, so Appa would lick him," he said.

In that second a picture was pushed into Zuko's mind. It featured him covered in honey – and nothing else – and it was decidedly _not_ Appa who was licking it off him.

His clothes suddenly became uncomfortably warm.

_Katara, that's hardly the right time for this_, he chided.

_I am sorry, _he heard her answer, but even in his head he could hear her giggle.

_No, you're not,_ he thought bemusedly. _But you will be._

He pushed the picture back at her – roles reversed, of course – and delighted in the breathless gasp he heard behind him.

"And you, Katara?" Aang prompted.

If the situation had not been so serious, Zuko would have laughed at the way Katara tried hastily to regain her composure. She did not answer right away, and he could feel her struggling with how much and what to tell Aang.

"I cannot yet tell you why," she finally said. "But I can tell you that I trust Zuko with my life. And even more than that, I trust him with yours."

"Sokka?" Aang asked again.

"I may not trust him," Sokka said, "But I trust your instincts, Aang. I'll be okay with whatever you decide."

"All right, then," Aang said, his clear, young voice carrying an authority that belied his years. "You may stay with us, Zuko."

Zuko bowed again.

"Thank you, Avatar Aang. It's an honour, and I will not disappoint you."

"That remains to be seen," Sokka quipped, nasally imitating an upper class accent.

Zuko clambered to his feet, feeling all eyes on him as he slowly walked over to his uncle.

Only now did he realize how much Iroh had changed in the last few weeks. The wobbly belly had vanished and given way to sculpted muscle. His whole, stocky body was packed with hard muscles, from broad shoulders to brawny arms and corded thighs. For the first time in his life Zuko understood how powerful a fighter Iroh must have been in his prime, despite him being not nearly as tall as his younger brother. Zuko now towered over him by more than a foot.

"Uncle," Zuko said, and then words failed him when Iroh looked up at him; pride, awe, regret and lingering sadness all visible in his eyes.

"We've much to talk about, nephew," Iroh said softly.

Zuko nodded.

And then, Iroh opened his arms and embraced him briefly, patting him jovially on his back.

"Glad to have you back, Zuko."

Not trusting his voice enough to speak, Zuko just nodded and then stepped back from his uncle because Aang was suddenly bouncing up next to him.

"Wanna see what I've already learned, Zuko?" he asked with the eagerness of a little kid showing its first drawing.

Iroh chuckled.

"All right, young man," he said, "Let's show Zuko and Katara some fine firebending."

They walked a few feet away, making a great production out of ensuring everybody's safety, bowed to each other and then went through some basic firebending moves.

Zuko smiled to himself as inspiration struck.

Quickly, he shrugged off his coat, stripped off his shirt, as always drawing some satisfaction at the feeling of a wanton gaze roaming over his naked skin.

Ignoring it for the moment, he turned to Aang and his uncle.

"You guys call that bending?"

He fired up two fiery daggers in his fists and positioned himself right across from the gaping Avatar.

To his credit, Aang recovered quickly enough, went into position and countered Zuko's swift attack with a neatly executed move that told Zuko that his uncle had taught him more than just the basics. Still, he was a novice at that bending discipline, no match for someone with Zuko's experience and his newly enhanced bending powers.

Zuko had not forgotten that Aang had bested him in more than one fight, and for a perverse reason, he wanted to even the score right now.

All while Katara was watching.

The fight grew more heated by the second, literally and figuratively, while Aang held his own surprisingly well. It seemed like a miracle how much he had learned over the course of only a few weeks.

Additionally, he was infuriatingly light on his feet, using his agility smartly against Zuko who had still to adapt to his added height and weight.

One moment, he was in front of him, the next Zuko only barely managed to deflect a blast that came from somewhere behind him. The momentum of the impact toppled him to ground in an undignified heap, and with some consternation, he saw Aang gather a flame for what would be his defeat.

Without conscious thought, Zuko curled his fists, summoned the last of his strength and called the water from the nearby river, slamming it as an icy wall against Aang's blow.

Clearly, Aang had not expected such a maneuver, and now he fell, buried under ice-cubes and sloshing water.

Zuko sprung to his feet.

"I win," he declared.

"You cheated," Katara said sourly, much less impressed with him than he had hoped.

Aang, for some reason, smiled good-naturedly and bent the water and ice gracefully away and then hopped to his feet.

"It is true, then?" he asked with open curiosity. "You two can bend each other's element? We couldn't believe it when your uncle told us, but…"

Zuko turned to Iroh, eying him accusingly.

"You told them?"

Iroh scratched his head, grinning crookedly.

"It might have slipped out over tea, but since you're obviously not about to make a secret out of it either…"

He shrugged and trailed off.

"Really, Katara?" Zuko now heard Sokka ask. "You can bend fire? Please show us, please, please, please. You have no idea how helpful that could be during the invasion."

_Shall we?_ she asked him.

Zuko nodded grimly. Here was a great way to show everyone once and for all to whom Katara belonged, even without talking about the nature of their relationship.

His smugness turned to disbelieving consternation when he saw her stripping down to her underwear, with everyone looking on as if that was the most natural occurrence in the world.

_What exactly are you doing?_

She lifted an eyebrow while slowly sauntering over to him.

_Showing them, _she answered calmly.

_What, your breasts?_

Katara sighed.

_Don't be ridiculous. They've seen me like that a hundred times. You're the only one who is staring at my breasts._

"That'd better be true," he mumbled under his breath while watching Aang from out of the corner of his eyes. In his opinion, the boy took entirely too much notice of everything below Katara's neckline.

Meanwhile, Katara had positioned herself next to him, taking his hand.

With quiet ease, they repeated some of the stances they had developed during the bit of fight training they had done on their journey. They bent fire and water alternately, meticulously avoiding the elements to connect.

They hadn't been meditating once after their departure from Tang-Ma-Hal. It seemed like lovemaking had a similar effect of replenishing their energy and strengthening their bond. Only now that having sex was out of the question, they would have to resort to meditating again, but that didn't mean they had to do it in front of everyone.

After they ended their little demonstration, they earned furious applause and some impressed cheering from their little audience, and bowed like actors.

Sokka then announced that he was hungry and they should return to the camp to eat, a suggestion to which Zuko wholeheartedly agreed.

………

During dinner that consisted mostly of what Katara was told was Fire-Nation delicacies, Aang, Toph and Sokka were talking all over each other to tell them what had happened during the weeks of their absence. As if by a mutual unspoken agreement, no one asked what had happened to the two of them, and they were all too happy to keep quiet about it.

Covertly, Katara watched Aang for any sign of a broken heart. But although she could see a golden tendril of unrequited longing reaching toward her whenever he thought she did not look, it didn't seem as if he was in even half as much anguish as Zuko seemed to be in, every time she interacted just the least bit kindly with Aang.

She had to do something about his ridiculous possessiveness and jealousy, and she had a rather entertaining idea how to deal with it.

* * *

Reviews are - as always - appreciated.


	24. Bound

**_A/N:_** Hi, yes it's me. Still living, still writing. A lot, actually, which is why I haven't updates for ages. In case you're interested, I've put up a homepage (url on my profile page) where there's a bit of stuff about my "non-derivative" writing.

I really feel guilty for having let you guys wait for so long. I am eternally grateful to all of you who let me know that they're still reading and still eagerly awaiting new chapters. I want to use this opportunity to assure you that this story is not (as has apparently been reported somewhere) abandoned. According to my statistics pages, 'Strength' has 300+ readers (alerts) and I just cannot leave that much people without telling them the ending, which will be - hopefully - some four or five chapters hence.

Sincere thanks to all of you for your continuing interest and support.

**_A/N2:_** Content warning. Again, I mean it. Things get a bit of a kinky, dark turn in this chapter, so don't say you haven't been warned. (I should also be warning you that this chapter comes to you without being beta-read. If you find any mistakes or inconsistencies, please let me know about them.) Since it's been a while, I recommend reading chapter 23 again before starting with this one.

**_Chapter 24 - Bound_**

"Zuko, would you care to accompany me for a walk?"

Zuko looked up at his uncle and then back at Katara who was still animatedly chatting with her friends and her brother. And Aang, of course.

He scowled at them, but since there was no good reason to politely deny his uncle's request, he laboriously pushed himself to his feet.

"Gladly," he said.

Katara looked up at him with a light smile, and some of his irritation evaporated at the sight.

_Don't be long_, he heard her voice in his head. _I've plans for tonight._

He almost had to sit down again, because his knees suddenly felt rather unsteady.

_We have to be careful_, he reminded her. _The earthbender can feel us. She knows._

Sadly not able to mask her surprise, Katara turned her head toward Toph, staring at her, to which the girl gave her a smug grin, as if she had heard their silent conversation.

In that moment he understood that it was more than her admiration for the Avatar that irritated him. Something about those four people, something about what they had gone through together, had formed a circle around them into which he was not yet included and would likely never be. He wanted her for himself, and not now or ever in the future would it sit well with him to share her with anyone. Not with her friends, not with her brother, and not with a boy who was making calf-eyes at her.

"Don't wait for us," he said gruffly and turned around without answering Katara's smile.

Iroh led the way through what to Zuko looked like complete darkness. Only slowly was he able to discern trees and bushes, until his night-blind eyes noticed that there was a subtle source of light bathing everything around him in a pale, silvery glow.

He looked up to see the moon, full and bright in the midnight-blue velvet of the night sky. Seeing it had a few peculiar effects on him. One of them – naturally – was purely sexual.

Katara had told him only last night that she could feel the waxing moon in her blood. He had learned that it infused her with an energy she needed to work out of her system in the most deliciously wicked ways imaginable. The other effect, however, was something even deeper; something that seemed to affect his own internal source of energy, that usually only reacted to sunlight.

For a moment, he halted his steps and kept looking upward into the round, white fullness of the moon, almost dizzy with the solemn flow of energy that pumped through his veins.

The mark on his shoulder started to pulse slowly, conspiring with the rest of his body to turn his thoughts into a very specific direction.

With some effort, he shook those thoughts off and followed his uncle until they came to a rocky outcropping that overlooked the river from above.

Iroh sat down with an agility Zuko had yet to get used to.

"You must have a lot of questions," Iroh said.

"I did," Zuko answered. "I wanted to ask you why you kept the truth from me all the time, knowing how much I craved to learn it."

"Then ask," Iroh said softly.

"I won't. I know the answer. After I was over my first anger at you for not telling me, I understood why you felt it was not your place to tell me, and that I might not have been ready to hear the whole truth."

He felt Iroh's gaze resting questioningly on him.

"I see Katara succeeded with your scar," he said, abruptly changing the topic as he often did.

Zuko smiled to himself.

"She succeeded with a great many other things as well," he said, enjoying his own private joke.

"When will you tell her brother about the two of you?"

For the second time that day, this question almost literally knocked the wind out of him.

"Are we truly that obvious?" he asked, rather afraid it was already a rhetorical question at this point.

Iroh chuckled amusedly, but then shook his head.

"No, not to everyone. I'm fairly sure that Toph knows, and my dragon can scent another dragon's mating bond."

Instinctively, Zuko put his hand to his neck, covering the mark.

"Is that what it is?" he asked. "A mating bond?"

Iroh nodded. "Yes, it is, and I must admit I envy you for having found a true mate."

The sight of his mother's naked shoulder, the mark so clearly burned into the white skin, popped unbidden into Zuko's mind.

"You mean that not every dragon does?"

For a while, Iroh said nothing, and it occurred to Zuko how deeply personal this line of questioning was. But from whom but his uncle should he learn these thing, when he had no father, not even an older brother or cousin to pester which such questions?

"From what I know, in the old days, every young dragon tried to find a bonded mate. But your great-grandfather Sozin discouraged such behaviour in his sons, and impressed on them the importance of the fact that a firelord should be free of emotional and personal entanglements that might weaken him."

"I don't think it weakens me," Zuko said firmly.

A noncommittal noise came from Iroh's direction. "It won't, for as long as you're together with your mate. But there had been firelords who had been driven to insanity by the pain the loss of a mate had caused them. That's what Sozin wanted to prevent."

Zuko remembered all too clearly the pain he suffered every time Katara was away from him. Even now the distance between them was an irritation, as if they were connected by an actual physical bond, a band that stretched and – with further growing distance – would snap eventually, leaving them both to bleed inwardly.

When Zuko did not reply immediately, Iroh changed topics once again.

"So when do you plan on telling Sokka and Aang?"

"Katara asked me to leave it to her," he said. "She wants us to be… discreet."

"I'm afraid she underestimates the power of the mating bond," Iroh said gravely. "It cannot be denied that easily, and neither can be the power she gets from the full moon."

Once again Zuko looked up at the glowing silvery disk in the sky, feeling the flow of serene power that the cool light gave him.

"Can you feel it?" he asked his uncle.

Iroh looked over to him. "Can you?"

Zuko nodded slowly and smiled, "I'm sort of a waterbender now," he said. "I guess I'm supposed to feel it."

"Just keep in mind that she will probably feel it with much more intensity."

………

"…and when the eclipse finally starts, Aang will already be in the palace, confronting the firelord in his lair. The troops we have with us will meet with no more resistance and the victory is ours. It's shockingly simple, really."

Although Katara had asked Sokka about his plans regarding the day of the black sun, she barely heard a word of what he was saying.

She was constantly fighting the impulse to jump to her feet and dash into the wood to look for Zuko. He was in no danger, of that she was sure, but his absence, the bit of distance between them grated on her nerves.

She plastered a wide smile to her face to mask her growing nervous restlessness.

"That sounds great, Sokka. I'm sure it will be a success."

The underbrush at the border of the clearing rustled and Iroh stepped into their field of vision.

Alone.

"Where's Zuko?" she asked, and pretended not to notice how Iroh smiled knowingly.

"He said he wanted to enjoy the full moon for a while longer."

She had to close her eyes for a moment, unsuccessfully fighting a mental image of Zuko's naked body bathed in moonlight, his pale skin glowing like molten silver.

Naturally, she was perfectly aware of tonight's full moon. She knew that the energy that pumped through every cell of her body came directly from its powerful influence.

But tonight it felt like too much, like an excess of power her body was too weak to handle. Like a balloon filled with too much water, she was afraid she would burst if this went on for much longer. To make things even worse for her, the dragon mark on her neck itched and throbbed, tempting her to claw it out of her skin.

Apparently, what she had planned for Zuko had to happen tonight.

She was on her feet before the thought had even fully formed in her head.

"I'll go looking for him," she declared a trifle too loudly.

At seeing her brother's frown she explained, "Zuko is virtually blind in the dark."

Everyone – including Toph – looked significantly up into the sky, to the bright silver disk that stood in the sky, not one cloud marring the white light it sent down.

To call this darkness was more than a stretch, but Katara couldn't be bothered to find a more elaborate excuse.

When she was out of sight of the campfire, she drew a deep breath, feeling the strain of holding herself in check falling away from her, leaving her trembling with raw, unchecked power. She was sure that was how it felt to go insane.

Around her, the forest softly rustled, and a few nocturnal animals went about their nightly business. She could feel every one of them, felt the blood flowing through their bodies. She felt the sap rising in the trees and plants, sensed the tiny drops of water in the air around her. Beneath her feet, she felt the humidity in the earth, the miniscule quantities of water in every worm, every beetle that crawled over the ground.

She planted her feet firmly to the earth, reaching with both hands toward the moon until she could feel the energy flowing freely through her, could feel her body gathering strength until she was sure that tonight, she could do everything.

Pleasure vibrated hotly through her when she felt _him_, Zuko, his dragon's blood flowing hotly but steadily through his veins.

_Zuko_

He came closer, aggravating her feverish excitement until she could only gasp for the air that had suddenly grown too thin. When he finally stepped into her line of sight, her intoxication with her own power was so complete, she could not resist the pull she felt, the urge to command her element, to bend it to her will.

A hot surge of elation ripped through her when she slowly took hold of his blood, feeling it on her fingertips, completely at her mercy and hers to do with as she pleased. She could force him to his knees this way, force him to throw himself on his own sword, but of course that wasn't what she had in mind.

She moved him closer, pulled him to her bound by the immense force that the moon lent to her bending. His face was in the shadows from the surrounding trees, and she pulled him even closer so she could see his eyes, those beautiful golden irises that could glow so warmly into hers, full of longing and tenderness.

But he resisted.

He strained against the hold she had on his blood, on every muscle, every tendon in his body, as if wanting to escape. She could not let him escape. She needed him. Tonight of all nights she needed him in ways she could still not fully imagine.

It wasn't only the by now familiar sexual hunger, it wasn't only the emotional craving of connecting with someone she loved, or the pull of their psychic bond.

Tonight, everything that was ordinary and reasonable had to give way to the extraordinary, to the unreasonable and inexplicable. To the powers that raged through her, violent and demanding.

He still fought her with increasing ferocity, making it necessary to tighten the hold she had on his blood, to exert more power over him. In a way, it was a relief because it drained something of her surplus energy.

His struggle became more violent with every second, mild surprise and dismay long since replaced with seething anger. For a moment, she wondered how he could be so strong as to even attempt to defy her, now, during a full moon.

There was a moment of stillness, just a split second really, and then a brutal change erupted through the leash she had on him. The dragon roared with outrage at being bound and fettered. It raged at its bonds with the desperate viciousness of a trapped wild beast, with hurt betrayal at her abuse of its trust.

She let go of the bond at once, the mist of being drunk on her own power clearing from her eyes and minds. Horror at her own actions suffused her.

What had she done? By using her superior powers, she had brutally forced a human being – the man she loved! – to do her bidding. She had used him like a puppet on a string, contained him against his will.

But he would not let her repent at her leisure.

As soon as she released him, he charged toward her, literally breathing fire, his eyes shooting fiery daggers.

She had never seen him this angry, had never seen anyone so angry, and it was a blood-freezing sight.

His body collided none too gently with hers when he reached her, slamming her into a tree-trunk behind her. By pure instinct she raised her hands to ward off his assault, but he understandably saw that as another attack and his fists closed like vise around her wrists.

"What the hell are you doing?" he demanded, his voice deathly quiet, his anger like a living thing between them. "Why have you never told me you could do that?"

"I… I didn't know," she stammered. "I was almost blind with energy just now, I didn't know what I was doing."

He glared at her, his mouth set into a tight line, his breathing harsh and uneven.

"I'm sorry, Zuko. I am so terribly sorry."

His hands closed even tighter around her wrists, numbing any feeling in her hands. She welcomed the pain, though, because it seemed just punishment. She had chained him, now he was chaining her.

She tentatively reached with her thoughts out to him, but met a wall of black fire, dangerous and forbidding.

The hands holding her wrists shook with fine tremors, as did his whole body.

"I am so furious with you right now, Katara," he said through gritted teeth, "I don't know what I'll do with you once I release your hands."

His words were not light or teasing. He meant them and it made her tremble too.

"I have half a mind to put you over my knee and exert my husbandly right of punishing my wife."

Some sense of indignant independence rose in her, about to protest, about to tell him exactly where to put his ancient notions of what was acceptable behaviour in a husband, when an image rose in her mind, not of her own creation.

She could see in quite vivid detail, how that scene of punishment would play out, and what she would wear through the ordeal. Which was nothing.

For a reason she didn't want to examine all too closely, it appalled and excited her at the same time. It also reminded her of what she had planned to do about his jealousy and possessiveness.

"You have a decidedly disturbing fantasy life, my lord husband," she whispered, deliberately using the most stilted expression she could think of.

He smiled. A predator's smile, without the barest hint of amusement.

"Ah, but it's a recent development, my lady wife. I think it started when I met you."

She smiled back, looking significantly at her imprisoned hands, which already tingled with loss of proper blood-flow.

"I distinctly remember having been in a similar situation with you before."

His expression softened a little, his anger losing its bitter edge of resentment.

"It's true, I _did_ tie you to a tree once," he said softly, the menace gone from his voice.

"For half a night," she added, daring to infuse her voice with the slightest hint of a teasing grudge.

"If you'll swear you'll never again do to me what you did before, I'll never again tie you to a tree."

She inwardly smiled with glee at how well her plan was going to work out.

"Oh," she said out loud. "How disappointing."

Zuko had stopped shaking with fury a few moments ago, but now his body became motionless in an entirely different way. Like a coiled spring, straining with powerful tension.

He was, she mused wryly a short while later, not at all slow to take a hint.

Her hands were released for the very short moment it took him to loosen her sash and use it to tie her hands to the tree behind her. He tied the sash firmly, but expertly, allowing for circulation to resume in her hands.

Prickling, pinching sensations diverted her attention for a second, so she didn't notice that he had stepped back from her, apparently admiring his handiwork.

Pale moonlight illuminated his features, setting his white skin almost aglow. He wore the arrogant, supercilious grin she used to despise so much, his eyes glittering with triumph.

An overwhelming sense of déjà vu shook her, and it became nearly impossible to remind herself that much time had passed since that night when she had been captured by those filthy pirates. Since that time when only the sight of Zuko's face had filled her with both fear and hatred.

"Tell me where he is," he said. "And I won't hurt you or your brother."

So, he remembered that night as well as she did. She opted against the mulish expression she had certainly worn back then and decided to do what she should have done instead. She gave him a sugary sweet smile.

"Go jump in the river," she said amiably.

He chuckled. There was still anger in him, more than she could understand, and a lot of hurt that she had somehow caused with her thoughtless action, but they had certainly gone through worse before.

"Try to understand," he said, stepping closer. "I need to capture him to restore something I've lost." He stood half behind her now, his face very close to hers, his warm breath fanning her cheek. Back then, she had been more than a little afraid, trying to mask her dread by appearing unimpressed. It was for a completely different reason that she trembled now.

"My honour," he whispered next to her ear.

Her knees threatened to collapse under her as his lips fleetingly caressed her neck, and she felt so light-headed afterwards, she might have imagined it.

"Perhaps in exchange I can restore something you've lost."

Something sleek and smooth slid over her neck to come to rest at the base of her throat. The carved crystal of her mother's necklace was warm from his hands.

Her mind was frighteningly empty. She remembered wryly that it had been similarly empty back then as well. What had she said when she had felt his arms coming around her, when he had been so close she could feel the warmth of his skin, could smell the scent of fine soap, wood smoke and virile male?

_My mother's necklace_, he reminded her, clearly amused. _How did you get that?_

"My mother's necklace. How did you get that?" she repeated flatly and embarrassingly breathless.

The crystal slid a few inches deeper, toward her breasts. Her dress, without the sash, was falling open at the front and revealed enough naked skin over which he could drag the pendant.

She should remind him that he was breaking out of his script. He hadn't done any of those things back then. Somehow, though, she couldn't find the words.  
"I didn't steal it, if that's what you're wondering," he whispered against her neck. This time, she could clearly feel his lips touching her skin. And his tongue, circling the dragon-mark.

She leaned harder against the tree-trunk, abandoning all hope that her legs would carry her much longer. "Tell me where he is," he commanded quietly, but with an unmistakable thread of steel in his deceptively soft voice.

And just like this, it stopped being the silly game she had hoped it would be. It probably never had been one to begin with.

His voice might be soft, but his command was clear. Wrapped in a silly question he could easily answer himself, was his demand for her to make a choice. Declare her loyalty to him or to Aang.

A sliver of irritation flared up in her. How could he force her to make such a choice?

Aang was the world's hope for peace. She would sacrifice everything, including her personal happiness, to end the war that devastated the world. He ought to know that.

Even more, he ought to _understand_ it. He had sworn a holy oath to make the same sacrifices.

Was his honour worth more than hers, because she was a woman?

"No," she said firmly.

He paused, his breath hot against her ear.

"No?" he asked, his voice still mellifluous despite the dangerous undercurrent of barely leashed anger.

"No."

The tip of his tongue traced the outline of the dragon-mark, causing her to moan helplessly.

"I suppose I'll have to torture it out of you," he whispered.

Over the last three days, he had become an expert at removing her clothing at an impressive speed, sometimes only with one hand and with his eyes closed.

This was no exception. Before her scattered wits had assembled themselves into working order, he had opened her dress widely at the front and loosened her breast-binding in such a way that the material was still tightly wrapped around her lower torso while her breasts were bared to him. With her arms bound behind her, it seemed as if she thrust them out while they rested high on the remnants of her underwear as if offered for his delectation.

"Sweet," he murmured, while brushing the back of his hand over the soft swell of exposed female roundness.

Her necklace dangled in front of her eyes and moved down around her neck again. Then lower, and lower still until it was stuck tightly between her breasts.

His brows knit in mock consternation.

"That won't do," he said and plucked the pendant out of its resting place, being unusually clumsy about it.

If she had her hands free, she'd be throttling him for sure. As it was, the only thing left to do was to beg.

"Zuko, please. I cannot wait much longer. Not tonight."

"Then tell me what I want to know," he said, while the pendant swung free again.

When he put it back against her breast, it was cool, causing a sensual shock when it scraped over her nipple, and caught there for a moment before it swung free again.

"Please," she whispered.

"You can have anything you want," he said coolly while repeating what he had done with her other breast. "It's yours for the asking."

The cool crystal went even lower then, brushing over her quivering stomach and then over her thighs that shifted restlessly against one another.

Then his face was close to hers again, his mouth caressing her neck, her ear, whispering, tempting.

"Choose me, Katara. I cannot wait much longer either. Choose me and end this madness."

"Zuko," she sobbed helplessly. "Zuko."

Why did he have to make things so difficult? Couldn't he see that now he made it not only about her loyalty to Aang, and to their cause, but about her loyalty to herself? Could he not understand that she would hate herself later for having so easily caved to a bit of sweet temptation?

But then his body was suddenly pressed against her, hard and demanding, grinding her into the uneven tree-trunk.

"Fine, you win," he growled before taking her mouth in a savage kiss, ravishing her mouth until she could taste the metallic tang of blood.

She was punished now, and he made sure she knew it. He kept her bound to the tree while adjusting his clothing, and then pushed into her with one brutal stroke. She valiantly fought for air while she was squashed literally between something like a rock and a hard place, the tender insides of her arms scraping painfully over rough tree-bark with every inconsiderate thrust.

It should have been uncomfortable. It was. It was rough, ugly and painful, but it also gave a desperately needed vent to too much desire, too much carefully aroused need. His mouth crashed onto hers only just in time to stifle her scream when all that pent-up longing shattered into violent release.

He leaned against her like a dead weight after it was over, his breath harsh, his heaving chest squashing her against the tree. She'd surely be black and blue all over tomorrow.

And he was still angry. Still hurt, and now even angrier because of an almost palpable sense of self-loathing.

_Talk to me,_ she begged him silently. _Talk to me and let us get through this._ _You'll hurt us both if we don't. _

_I love you, _she added almost like an afterthought.

His mind was like a big, black castle, drawbridge up, moat filled with hungry piranhas. Huge 'Abandon hope, all ye enter here' signs all over the place.

_I love you._

The drawbridge creaked. The piranhas scuttled off.

"You know, you two couldn't be more indiscreet if you tried."

They both froze. Then, with admirable presence of mind, Zuko put his pants back into order before turning around in a grand show of black, billowing cloak.

It would probably take him a while to adjust to the thought that Toph wasn't likely to be impressed with visual shows of superiority.

"Have you ever heard of something that's called privacy?" he bellowed, all pretences at cool civility apparently forgotten.

"If you want privacy," Toph yelled back, "you should go somewhere where I can't see you!"

"You can see us everywhere!"

He almost audibly choked on the frustrated fury she could feel in him.

Fortunately, Toph wasn't impressed by yelling either.

"Use your other head, Your Fieriness. I cannot see in sand or water. So that'd be the riverbank for you, I suppose."

She turned on her heel and stalked away, then paused for a moment.

"And if you don't treat her well, I'll show you the meaning of pain."

And with this she was gone, racing through the wood faster than any person dependent on his eyes might have been able to.

Zuko turned to her with a scowl on his face, loosened the sash around her wrists and dressed her carelessly before stomping toward the riverbank as if he didn't care a whit if she was coming or not.

Katara was quite thankful for being close to a body of water, even if it was rather cold, to heal her skin before it even started to bruise.

It also helped to soothe some of the bruises on her soul.

"Sand," Zuko muttered behind her, kicking the tips of his boots into the sand like a wilful, sullen boy. "I hate sand. It gets everywhere."

For a moment, she was undecided if she wanted to laugh or scream.

She turned around and sprayed him with a rain of droplets. He deflected the shower with one graceful move of his left hand.

"You're angry," she stated somewhat redundantly. "Why don't you tell me why?"

"You know why."

"I apologized."

"I didn't mean your bit of… bloodbending."

"Zuko, I love you. I have given you everything I have to give."

"I want everything, Katara. I don't want to share. Not you love, not your loyalty. I don't want you to have allegiances elsewhere. I don't want to find out that at some point in the future, something else – someone else – is more important to you than I am. That Sokka's socks need mending, or that the Avatar needs someone to boost his confidence, or that the world just cannot fend for itself."

She stared at him in astonished silence.

"You don't really mean that."

"I've been left for the sake of the greater good once. I'm not keen on repeating the experience."

"You know that I literally can't live without you."

He kicked the sand again.

"You haven't even told him yet."

She flinched at the just accusation. So that was the true source of his hurt. She could understand that all too easily. She'd be furious with him too, if he had tried to hide their relationship from someone.

"I will," she said softly. "First thing tomorrow."  
He kicked the sand into a dusty cloud, but said nothing. There was just no getting through to him.

While he wasn't looking, she splashed him with a generous amount of water.

He spun around, glaring.

"You want a fight, waterbender?" he said.

"Nothing else seems to help."

He lifted his chin while shedding his outer clothes, making a great to-do about folding them and stocking them into a neat pile.

Undoubtedly, his proudly displaying his naked chest was designed to distract her. It did.

He made a 'bring-it-on' gesture, while lodging his bare feet firmly into the sand underfoot.

And then she attacked with a great, wide wall of water.

She could've thought of something subtle, she thought seconds afterwards. She could have thought of something he wouldn't have seen coming from a mile away. Something that he wouldn't be able to fight so easily.

But those thoughts were pointless when the great wall of water raced toward him with torrential force, only to be hit by a mighty burst of bright golden fire. The sudden uncontrollable impact caused an explosion as water turned to steam, and only by instinct could she hold on to the myriad of tiniest seething droplets that were threatening to steam-boil both of them.

The water's kinetic energy not suspended, the steam circled at the perimeter of a huge, rotating sphere that slowly settled over them like a giant shield.

The fire, she noticed when she looked more closely, was still there as well, shattered into fiery dust, illuminating the sphere from within.

She was not even consciously bending, she realized, and neither was Zuko, but the sphere still held, rotating and glittering like a precious mixture of gold and diamond dust.

"It's beautiful," he murmured and when he looked back at her, she felt the welcome mental pull that the connection of their elements caused. She followed it unthinkingly, opening her mind to him without reservation, but found his still firmly barred.

_Let go, Zuko. Let go of the anger and the hurt. Set yourself free and give us a chance._

………

The pull was finally irresistible. Just as Katara had demanded, he consciously let go of his anger, much less of it as he had made it out to be. He let go of his self-loathing over taking her as he had before, and shed the almost overwhelming feeling of jealousy and inferiority like a dirty garment.

And as if he had opened a floodgate, energy began to flow freely through him, both familiar and strange, because he had never experienced it while still feeling so close to the reality around them.

He could still clearly see them inside the silver-golden sphere that began floating above the ground, taking them floating with it.

He could make the conscious decision to take Katara into his arms and kissing her without the blinding effects that physical contact usually had during meditation. No pain in his old wound disrupted their embrace, no lingering bad emotions poisoned it.

He loved her slowly and thoroughly, deliberately trying to make her forget the last encounter's ugliness. For some reason, he didn't find it strange that they truly seemed to float a few feet above the ground. He didn't find it strange when the White Lotus on their shoulders began to glow with an eerie silver light, just as the dragon-mark did.

Before their passion crested, they found themselves where they had been only twice before. On the silvery path between the stars that led to an unknown destination.

A bit of knowledge, one that he had always looked for but never found, revealed itself to him at last. They were connected by mind, heart and body. An inseparable item comprised of two halves. The stars glowed and pulsed around them as they sedately walked along the path, until at the end of it, the glowing, rotating sphere came into sight, settling around them.

_You bring together what has been separated for too long_, a chorus of voices came out of nowhere. _You bring back into the world in its purest form that which was missing. The unity between Yin and Yang, female and male, moon and sun, water and fire. Like the one who controls all the elements, the spirits gave you great powers. Use them wisely and do not destroy what makes you strong._

He held her to him then, feeling how both their selves seemed to grow on an invisible level, suddenly able to absorb the broad stream of energy that floated around them, into them, without feeling too small, too weak to contain it.

_Now go back_, the voiced commanded. _And fulfil your destiny._

They had been aware of their physical selves for the whole time, and so it was no problem at all to return to their bodies, which lay comfortably entwined and satiated on the beach, warmly snuggled together under Zuko's cloak.

Katara turned to him, touching his face with her fingertips.

"That's what the Avatar state must feel like," she whispered.

For a second, Zuko probed these words for any potential of causing him jealousy. But curiously, they didn't. How could he still have doubts, when the spirits themselves had divined and blessed their union, when their love pulsed through his blood, throbbed in his heart and covered him like a blanket?

"I love you," he whispered. "Please forgive me for having been a jerk."

She laughed huskily, and snuggled even closer, rubbing herself against his naked body like a tame pygmy probably wouldn't get much sleep tonight.

"It would become thoroughly dull if you were to be constantly sweet and understanding."

"I hurt you," he whispered, not quite ready to let the topic drop in favour of more entertaining actions, despite her lush curves moving rather invitingly against him.

"I hurt because you hurt," she said, doing something with her fingers to his chest that wasn't hurting him at all. "That's seems to be the nature of what we are."

"And what are we?"

Her lips curved into a cheeky grin against his chest, and he could feel the vibrations of rather girlish giggles starting somewhere deep inside her. His mouth curved into a grin of his own, even though he had not even heard the surely ridiculous atrocity she was going to air.

"We're the Avatars of Love," she proclaimed and burst into helpless laughter afterwards.

A few minutes passed during which they both fought to regain their breaths, and even then Zuko could barely wheeze his words out.

"We're love benders."

* * *

They had laughed a lot afterwards, finding even more absurd designations for themselves, while knowing that at the core of things, they weren't so far off the mark. Hilarity was subdued somewhat, but not entirely, by one playful bout of love-making full of silliness, during which Katara discovered what a playful and inventive man could do with a bit of inspired waterbending. Not too long afterwards followed another, more tender and loving encounter, that nonetheless left them feeling as if the earth had shook.

When the moon at last started to lose its power over them and the first light of dawn crept over the horizon, they finally cuddled closely together and fell into a death-like, exhausted sleep.

...

Zuko woke some hours later to the thoroughly discomfiting sensation of a sharp blade pressed against his larynx. He did not even need to open his eyes to know.

"Sokka, this charming way you have of greeting me is getting old really fast."

He opened his eyes to see his brother-in-law glaring furiously down at him along the blade of his black sword.

"Get up and get away from my sister," Sokka hissed as if not wanting to wake Katara who was still neatly tugged against his body, snuggling even closer, completely oblivious to what was going on.

"I'm reluctant to disobey you," Zuko whispered, eying the weapon at his throat with deliberate disdain, "but seeing as both your sister and I are completely naked, I think I'd rather spare everyone the embarrassment."

An unhealthy glow of deep red burned on Sokka's cheek as he hesitated for a moment and then stepped back, still visibly coiled for attack.

Perversely savouring the boy's embarrassment, Zuko slowly turned his face to Katara, gently patting her back.

"We have to get up, love," he said, kissing her forehead.

"Not just yet," she protested sleepily, her eyes firmly closed. "You kept me up all night."

Zuko threw a quick glance at her brother and confirmed that, yes, this was a piece of information Sokka had not needed to be given.

"Rise and shine, darling," he tried again.

She made a few adorable sounds of protest and then let her hands stray in a blatant attempt to keep him firmly at her side.

He wriggled away hastily. There were things Sokka _really_ didn't need to know.

"What is it?" she asked, puzzled, the blue of her eyes slightly misted with sleepiness, like morning fog over a clear lake.

"Your brother has come to say Good Morning."

She stilled for a moment.

"Oh, please tell me that this is a joke," she whispered.

"I hope for your sake, Katara," the angry voice of her brother sounded behind them, "that he usually does make better jokes."

She groaned and rested her head against his shoulder for a moment, then abruptly sat up.

"Geez, Katara will you cover yourself!" Sokka shouted and spun on his heel, his back to them.

"You are being ridiculous," Katara said in a tight voice while they both scrambled to sort through the untidy heap of clothing that had constituted their bed for last night. And, of course, he had been right about one thing: sand had gotten everywhere. He didn't even want to dwell too closely on the thought.

When they were done and Zuko had assured himself that his daos were where they belonged, they gave Sokka leave to turn back again.

"I have never been more serious in my life," Sokka answered, looking the part.

"Sokka, let me explain," Katara began in a more pleading tone while Sokka advanced on Zuko, who could only barely resist drawing his own swords in self-defence.

"I will let you explain," he said. "After I have dealt with Zuko."

"Sokka!"

"You will go back to the camp and wait for me to come back. Then you can explain to your heart's content. Go now!"

His tone was commanding and deathly serious in a way that Zuko had never heard from the boy before. Despite the fact that Sokka's wrath was directed against him, Zuko felt some sort of admiration for Sokka's uncompromising commitment to his sister.

"Please go, Katara," Zuko said to her, giving her a warm, reassuring smile. "It will be all right."

"It will not!" she cried. "You have no idea what he's about to do."

"What are you about to do?" Zuko asked Sokka with polite curiosity, knowing full well what it was. The customs of the Water Tribe were not completely alien to him.

"By the laws of the Water Tribe," Sokka explained, "I have the right to defend my sister's honour. I challenge you to a fight, which will end when I have gained satisfaction. Draw your sword, Prince Zuko."

* * *

TBC

A/N: Please let me know if someone's still reading this. A word or two about how you liked this chapter is, of course, also appreciated. ;)


	25. Honesty

**_A/N: _**How does one go about continuing a story which one has neglected for so long? Or more importantly, how does one apologize to readers who have been kept waiting almost two years for a new chapter? I will not try the latter, because there really is no apology for waiting so long. I could say that a lot of things have happened in my real life, both good and not so good, but even that doesn't account for two years. I just didn't know how to start again. It was the continuing flow of reviews, heartbreakingly lovely and encouraging, that finally convinced me that I just HAD to do it, no matter what. So this chapter wouldn't even exist without those reviews. Thank everyone of you who took the time to write them.

My writing muscles, which I haven't exercised for all that time, have gone limp and rusty, so this chapter isn't what it should be. Anyway, I will use those muscles again in the future and hope that things will get better again.

**_Chapter 25: Honesty_**

Katara had walked only a few steps in the direction of the camp when she heard Sokka's terse command. He stood with his back to her, not seeing that she had no intention of leaving him to do whatever he deemed necessary.

Over Sokka's head she met Zuko's questioning gaze.

_Do I tell him, or do I fight him? _

She shuddered at the finality of the question. It was not supposed to be that way. She had thought she might get Sokka alone somewhere, maybe reminisce about something funny that had happened back home. She had planned of breaking the news to him gently, although she had not even started yet to figure out how.

But the time for doing things the way she had planned was apparently over. Damn that full moon.

She nodded to Zuko.

_Go ahead and tell him_, she thought. _Try to be nice._

"I truly appreciate your concern for Katara's honour," Zuko started, his voice mellow and missing the amused arrogance from before. "I honestly do. But you will have to admit that it is a husband's privilege to protect and defend his wife's honour. So you may put back your sword."

While he had spoken, Katara had walked back to Zuko's side, taking his hand.

Sokka didn't move. He still held his sword in an aggressive angle towards Zuko, his eyes blazing blue fire. It appeared he had not understood.

_This isn't going well._

"What are you talking about?" Sokka finally asked in a terse voice.

"Katara is my wife," Zuko said softly.

Sokka's sword, still pointed at Zuko, began to tremble.

He glanced to her.

"Tell me that he lies."

She shook her head.

"He doesn't."

With a swift motion, Sokka sheathed his sword, turned on his heel and stalked away.

Katara didn't need a gift for seeing people's emotions to feel the hurt coming from him.

_I have to go after him._

Zuko nodded.

_I'll wait for you back at the campsite._

He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze and then let her go.

She ran after her brother, who seemed not to be looking where he was going.

"Sokka, wait!"

He didn't slow his steps.

"Let me explain."

At that, he spun to her, all the anger that had been directed at Zuko before now squarely hitting her. It was like a physical blow to see him so angry; she couldn't remember ever having seen him looking at her quite like that.

"I am NOT talking to you."

She squared her shoulders.

"Then let me do the talking," she said. "Yes, I did marry Zuko. I will not try to explain it to you, but it was my choice to make and I'm not going to apologize for it. But I am sorry for not having told you the moment we were back."

He set his jaw and drew himself even straighter upright.

"You've humiliated me, Katara," he said. "You've taken from me the one responsibility, the one right I have as your brother."

"To choose a husband for me?" she asked acidly.

"Yes!" he yelled. "Or at least to give my consent. How could you have done this without my consent? Without dad's consent?"

"I'm my own person; I don't need anyone's consent!"

"You're a _child_!"

"I'm sixteen years old and I haven't been a child for a very long time."

She saw Sokka flinch at her last words and was almost sorry for hitting him where he hurt just as much as she did. They had both stopped being children the day their mother had died.

"I don't mourn my childhood, Sokka," she continued quietly, lifting her hand to reach out to him, but letting it sink back to her side when she saw him stiffen with rejection. "But I should at least be allowed to be a woman."

His gaze was cold like a stranger's when he looked at her silently from head to toe as if he saw her for the first time in his life.

She took a deep breath and opened her mind to the perception of emotions she seemed to have developed, trying to see if that silvery bond of sibling love was still there, still intact.

She found it easily, still pulsing with vivid life, still strong and unharmed.

It was his pride, she concluded. His pride that had been injured today. By now she knew enough about male pride to understand that this was a serious injury indeed.

"And you decided to be with him. With a man who stands for everything that is wrong with this world."

He was deliberately unfair. He himself had accepted Zuko yesterday, but of course now all Zuko's motives had to be questioned again.

But she would not call him on his unfairness. Arguing with him in his current mood would only amount to a vast quantity of wasted breath. For once, she would take the high road and let him stew in his own anger.

"Yes, I decided to be with him. Destiny chooses strange things sometimes, and I haven't completely understood yet what it has chosen for me. But I have to follow this path, and I have to do so with Zuko."

He shook his head, and then looked back at her with deliberate coldness.

"Fine, you've made your choice and I can't do anything about it anyway."

She tried to smile but his expression turned even grimmer when she did.

"Just don't come running to me when this... this _marriage_, turns out to be the worst mistake of your life."

With those words, he turned and walked away from her again. This time, she didn't follow him.

On her way back to the campsite, eager to draw some comfort from her husband, she stumbled over a rock that had suddenly appeared in her path.

"Not so fast, Sugar Queen."

Katara strained her eyes and finally found Toph perching atop a square boulder that had probably been a makeshift lookout.

"Did I hear right that you are married to his Royal Sparkiness?"

Katara sighed.

"Yes, you did."

"So, getting tied to trees is part of the whole experience?"

Katara felt blood hotly rushing into her cheeks.

"That's... private," she said, after having battled down the worst of her embarrassment. She had seriously hoped Toph hadn't seen that part of last night's events.

"If he abuses you—"

"He doesn't!" she cried.

Toph shrugged, her expression bored.

"More's the pity," she said. "I was so looking forward to having an excuse to kick lil'sparky's royal behind."

Katara plastered a grin to her face that she hoped looked genuine and turned to continue on her way.

Which all of a sudden was blocked by a rather massive stone wall.

"One more thing."

She spun around, glaring at Toph, who stood directly behind her, arms folded.

"I think we both agree that you screwed up royally..." Toph said, then snickered. "No pun intended," she continued. "You screwed up royally, where Sokka was concerned. You should have told him the truth yesterday."

Katara opened her mouth to reply, what exactly she was not sure, when she was silenced with an impatient gesture.

"Spilled milk," Toph said and then lowered her voice in a menacing way that was neither funny nor reassuring. "But if you're planning on doing the same with Aang..."

She stretched out her left arm, fingers of her left hand spread wide. Then she slowly curled her fingers into a tight fist.

Behind Katara, the stone wall crumbled to dust.

Back at the campsite, Zuko found himself somewhat at loose ends. He was alone. Katara was off somewhere talking with Toph, which he could feel was less than an emotionally uplifting experience. Sokka, the one person he badly needed to talk to about plans of the invasion, had slunk off somewhere to sulk, and his uncle and the Avatar had gone to the river for firebending lessons.

With little else to do but wait for someone to come back, he started sharpening his swords, usually a task which gave him time to think and to relax, while he drew the sharpening stone in even, slow movements over the blade of his swords.

Today, however, calm seemed to have deserted him. At first he thought the most obvious reason was the extraordinary experience he had had with Katara last night. Strangely though, even given the scene with Sokka this morning, he felt that things had never been more right, more clear between them. Even more than that, he thought he finally understood the purpose and the nature of their bond. This understanding, he knew with crystal clarity now, was the key to using the full power of their gifts. He also knew that those gifts were not given for personal joy and gratification, but for a greater purpose. That with them came a responsibility that he could no more deny than the Avatar could deny his.

But even he knew that this responsibility would eventually lead him to actions and decisions he would much rather avoid, this thought was not what made him restless and had him looking around him and over his shoulder every other minute.

A sense of lurking danger crawled over his skin in regular intervals, a premonition of some impending disaster that he was unable to shake. He almost sighed with relief when he finally felt Katara approaching the campsite – alone.

"I have to tell Aang," she said as soon as she was in hearing range.

He waited a while for her to elaborate, but when she kept staring at some unseen point somewhere, he cleared his throat.

"A very smart decision," he said.

Katara threw him a look that told him without any words at all where he could put that sort of remark.

Another shiver of fear shuddered threw him that had nothing to do with her angry glance.

He got up, hand on his sword handle.

"Someone's coming."

Katara turned to him and even if he wouldn't have been able to read her emotions, he could see how preoccupied she was, probably rehearsing what she would tell Aang.

He hadn't quite completed the thought, when there were indeed two people noisily approaching the campsite, one of them excitedly chattering while the other smiled and nodded and looked very pleased.

Zuko sighed with relief and let go of his swords. Beside him, Katara tensed even more, if that was possible. Her nervousness kicked up his edginess another notch.

_Something's wrong._

Aang and his uncle where just about to reach them, when something crashed through the undergrowth of the wood behind them.

Before he had even turned around, while the others froze with shock, he knew.

He recognized the ear-splitting cries of the great riding lizards and he felt the malevolent presence of his sister. He briefly wondered why none of them had felt it before.

"Brother," she greeted him with an amiable grin on her face. "How nice to see you again. And Uncle, too, what a happy coincidence."

She hopped from her saddle and walked toward them, hips swinging and smiling victoriously.

"Quite a nice little family reunion, wouldn't you say?"

Zuko put his hand on his sword and Azula stopped in her tracks, her smile vanishing.

"Don't even think such un-brotherly thoughts, dear," she said icily, while she signalled to Ty Lee, mounted on another beast. Ty Lee dismounted and drew a bundle from behind her saddle that fell to the ground with a heavy thump.

Beside him, Katara gasped.

"Sokka."

Azula smiled again.

"If that's his name, yes. He was out there in the woods, doing a lousy job of keeping watch and we thought we would oblige him by giving him a ride back to your camp."

Azula gave another signal and Ty Lee drew a knife from her belt and held it to the unconscious boy's throat.

"Just to ensure the conversation will stay civilized," Azula said, her smile so sweet that it made his stomach turn.

She turned a little and bent the full force of her acid charm on Aang.

"Congratulation to your speed recovery, Avatar," she said, "I have to beg your pardon for causing you so much unnecessary pain. You see, I was trying my very best to kill you as quickly and painlessly as possible."

Aang, visibly seething, drew to a fighting stance, while Iroh beside him was looking for all the world as if he was just an curious bystander.

"You can try again right now," he said and Zuko was surprised for a moment at the note of steel in his boyish voice. This is the real Avatar speaking, he thought.

_Yes it is_, a voice in his head said softly, _you haven't really believed it until now, have you?_

Azula waved a dismissive hand.

"Ah, I didn't came for violence, not when we have something so momentous to celebrate."

Again she turned to him, favouring him with a smile.

"Congratulation Zuko, to your wedding," she continued, all smiles. "I have to admit to being a bit irritated at not having been invited, but I am so happy for you and Katara. I always wished for a sister."

It was cruel, it was clever and it was horribly effective. Even without a gift for sensing people's emotions, Zuko could feel how those words hit Aang more precisely than any firebending move could have done.

_Nooooooooooo. How could she? _Katara's anguish was like another precise blow. _How could she even have known?_

"What?", Aang croaked, arms hanging limply at his side, his voice that of a hurt little boy.

"Oh, they didn't get around to tell, you, did they?" Azula asked with feigned shock. "How remiss of them. Well, they had a very romantic wedding at the City of Flowers and the greatness of their love is still the talk everywhere in Tang-Ma-Hal and I'm sure the owner of the hotel where they spent their wedding night would…"

"Enough," Aang said with a helpless gesture. "I get it." Then he looked pleadingly at Katara, who in turn lowered her head.

"I'm so sorry, Aang," she whispered. "I really wanted to tell you today."

Zuko started to feel the drain, the loss of energy between them and stepped to Katara to take her hand. It was cool and clammy in his grip, but he felt at once the reassuring pulse of strength flowing between them.

"All right," Azula cut in the momentary silence. "We're all busy people and as much as I would like to let you sort things out, I'll have to leave and I have to do so with our dear Avatar."

Zuko laughed.

"If you think we'll just let you waltz out of here with Aang in your clutches, you are sadly mistaken."

Azula looked at him, unperturbed.

"And if you think, your brother-in-law will see another sunrise if you don't let me take the Avatar, you are equally wrong."

"Don't give them Aang."

The slightly slurred words had all of them turn their heads in Ty Lee's direction. Unnoticed by them, Sokka had apparently reached consciousness again and struggled to his feet. Ty Lee's knife was still firmly pressed to his throat, but in his eyes shone resolve and bravery.

"Sokka…no." Katara's words were broken and thin.

Pain sliced through him, so excruciating it almost forced him to his knees. He had known that she loved her brother deeply. He had just never really understood this kind of sibling love. He did so now.

Sokka turned his head to his sister, risking his skin while he did so.

"Katara, you know it's the only option. You can fight them easily, they have no chance."

"You'll be the first who's dead," Azual pointed out.

"I know," Sokka said, his voice steady and icy cool. "And you'll be the second."

Zuko's head was ringing with the wailing NO Katara kept screaming silently. He held her hand more firmly, trying to restrain her from whatever she decided to do to save her brother.

Azula was still smiling, but her smile seemed somewhat forced now, as if she had lost some of her conviction that her cruelly clever plan was going to work.

"I am going to count to three," she said. "One…"

Katara started forward, as did Aang, but Sokka shook his head, his eyes ablaze with resolve, Ty Lee's knife grazing his skin.

"Two…"

Zuko wondered fleetingly, where Toph was, maybe she could…

"Three."

Azula slightly lifted her hand to signal Ty Lee, while Katara turned to stone next to him, her eyes wide, all her attention trained on the knife at her brother's throat.


End file.
